


The Connection

by Do_the_Cool_Whip



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Do_the_Cool_Whip/pseuds/Do_the_Cool_Whip
Summary: It’s like the soft hum of the air conditioner, ambient noise you don’t notice until it starts or stops. Bruce Wayne is eighteen when he first feels it. He chases the feeling all around the globe while training to become Gotham’s protector, but he never manages to find the source. That changes the night he goes to Haly’s Circus. Or: Bruce and Dick have known they were soulmates from the moment they met. And so has everyone else.





	1. Find

**Author's Note:**

> Because, apparently, this is what I work on when I'm not working on Dirty Little Secret.

It’s  8:21 pm on March 20th when Bruce feels it. Like a flip has been switched inside his head he can feel something. The feelings are jumbled and confused and Bruce turns to face west, eyes unblinking, as if he can see through the wall that stands in front of him.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred murmurs, he rests a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and tugs Bruce away from his spot, gently turning him to face him.

“My soulmate,” he says, his head still facing the direction he could feel the connection coming from, “I can feel them.”

Alfred’s eyes soften, and a small smile crosses his lips, “Shall I send for a car?”

“No.”

“Master Bruce—”

“They’re too far, Alfred. A car will never reach there.” Bruce pulls away and continues on his path to his room.

He forces himself to keep his eyes focused in front of him. He stands in his room for a moment, observing everything he can see from his position, as Alfred begins to turn the bed sheets down for him. “Master Bruce?”

“Tomorrow prepare the bags for me.”

“You’re going to go through with this scheme of yours.”

“I am.”

“Master Bruce—”

“Alfred, I’ve learned everything I can here. I’ve hired tutors to teach me martial arts and languages. But I could only hire people that are easily accessible. There are more languages out there that I don’t know, more fighting styles, more things than I can imagine.” Bruce turns to his dresser, resting against the wall opposite to his bed and pulls out a pair of black silk pajama pants.

“Master Bruce.”

“This is something that I have to do. Will you support me?”

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“Book a flight for me. I want to leave by Monday.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Somewhere out west.”

Alfred’s lips twitch into a small smile, as his shoulders relax and the subtle tremors in his hands stop. “Of course, Master Bruce.”

* * *

It’s been six months since Bruce first felt his soulmate. The feeling has never gone away. He’s been chasing the feeling around the globe to the best of his abilities, but sometimes they move too far too quickly for him to catch up. He’d been hoping to catch up to them wherever they are, but he can feel them leaving.

They don’t stay anywhere for long. They had been stationary for three months after he first felt them, but now they seem to be almost constantly on the move. They settle for a week or so, before moving traveling a large distance and stopping again. Bruce doesn’t understand why his soulmate won’t wait for him, but he is determined to get some answers.

He’s in Sweden now, and he’s found a new mentor. He has to master what they have to teach before he can move on. It’s been a long six months, but whenever he feels discouraged—like maybe he should focus on finding his soulmate and leave his childhood plans behind him—he thinks about what he would do if this person—who means so much to him even if they have never met—was standing in Gotham at gun point.

He feels another wave of emotion echoing from a far off distance. He can’t decide if his soulmate is ridiculously simple or unbelievably complex. They experience emotions so intensely that they coil up and twist and interact and if Bruce couldn’t feel them, he would never be able to decipher them.

They’re tired, exhausted in a bone deep way that’s making them miserable. They want help and to sleep. So, Bruce sits up from his bed, crosses his legs, and focuses on the breathing technique he was taught earlier. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Repeat.

He slips into a trance like he’s putting on a new sweater.

He focuses on the calm and relaxed state he’s in and eventually he feels his other half begin to mimic it.

(John Grayson smiles in relief when Dick stops crying and falls asleep.)

* * *

Dick is eight months old and he’s excited. Mary has no idea what has gotten into her son. She just knows that ever since he woke up this morning—more like last night with how early he woke everyone up—he’s been smiling.

The exhaustion she feels is worth it just to see that happy smile on his face.

She’s taking a walk through Ukraine, enjoying the sites and Dick’s giggles every time he points at something new.

“Excuse me?”

Mary turns to look at the young man speaking to her. When their eyes lock, she takes a step back. His blue eyes are so intense and the look he gives her is rather terrifying.

Like he’s dying of cancer and she has the only known cure.

“How can I help you?” She keeps her words polite and her tone even, as she shifts Dick away from the man and out of the man’s view. His gaze doesn’t so much as flicker towards her baby and Mary is so relieved that it takes a second for her to realize that Dick has gone completely silent.

It’s unnerving and worrying that he’s gone from laughter to silence for no discernible reason. Nothing has changed in the streets, not the sights, the smells, or even their actions.

Except for this man.

Well, barely a man. He’s can’t be more than twenty. Short black hair that’s neatly groomed. No facial hair. He’s tall, so tall Mary has to crane her neck back to look him in the eye. And big. Big shoulders, big muscles, big hands. Everything about him is big. Even the clothes he’s wearing speak to a big paycheck.

“My apologies,” the man says, taking a step away from Mary, “I mistook you for someone else.”

Mary smiles politely and nods, watching as the man turns and walks away. He’s almost out of view when Dick starts struggling.

He’s screaming and wailing and the stranger whirls around to stare at her. She focuses on calming Dick down and ignores the way her hearts starts pounding in fear when the man takes a step towards her. He hesitates and Mary turns on her heels back towards the safety of the circus.

She holds the image of that man in her head, vowing never to forget this one man. She’d tell Pop and John and everyone else to keep a lookout for him and refuse him entry to the show tonight. But, despite all of her plans, she can’t quite stop the trembling of her body or the wetness of her eyes.

(Bruce walks away confused and desperate for a soulmate that is nearby and begging for him, but he just can’t seem to find.)

* * *

Dick is three years old. Dick is three years old and he gets to go on the trapeze by himself for the first time. Dada is swinging back and forth, arms reaching out for him, and Dick is supposed to jump into his arms. But, Dick is scared. Because he’s not attached to Mama or Dada and he’s not sure if he’ll reach Dada. Every time he’s been on the trapeze, he’s been attached to Mama or Dada.

“Jump, Dick, you can do it!” Mama says from behind him. She’s runs her fingers through his hair and bends over him to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Jump, Dick!” Dada calls as he swings back towards them, he’s so close that Dick could touch him if he leaned out and reached for him. But he’s not supposed to lean out from the stand. If he does Mama and Dada will get mad and he’ll have to stand in a corner and he won’t get any cookies.

Dada swings back out and as he swings back towards them, Dick closes his eyes as his parents call for him to jump.

Yesterday, Dick fell. He fell and landed in the net. It had been fun at first. Mama had jumped and landed in the net. Then Dada jumped and landed in the net. And then Dick jumped and landed in the net. It had been fun. But, when Mama and Dada had been talking to Pops about something, Dick had climbed up for one more jump. He’d been waiting for them to turn to look at him because he wasn’t supposed to be up there if Mama or Dada couldn’t see him. One of the new people had seen him and yelled. It scared him and then he fell.

Falling wasn’t fun. It was scary and Dick didn’t like it. Dada is swinging towards them, arms opened wide to catch him, calling for him to jump. If Dada catches him, it’ll be fun, but if Dada doesn’t, he’ll fall.

He feels it then. A warm calm feeling washing over him. ‘You can do this,’ it says, ‘you’ll be okay.’ And Dick smiles and jumps. And for a second, he thinks he’s flying. Dada catches him, twists Dick upside down and wraps his arms around him.

“Good job, Robin!” Mama says.

Dick is happy. So happy he feels like he can burst.

(On another continent, Bruce smiles.)

* * *

It’s been four years since Bruce first felt his soulmate. It’s been four years since he’s had a nightmare about his parents. He sits up in bed, careful not to disturb Talia who lies naked beside him. It’s shocking to realize he hasn’t had a nightmare this intense since the connection between him and his soulmate was forged.

It’s obvious what started them up, though. R’as al Ghul wants him to kill. He wants Bruce to join the League of Assassins and succeed him. Bruce is torn. R’as al Ghul has taught him a lot, enough that Bruce feels confident enough to leave in a years’ time or so, and consider his journey around the world complete. He can probably do a lot of good in Gotham, but he can also do a lot of good as a member of the League.

It’s the assassin part that he can’t come to terms with.

In order to purge corruption from the world is it okay to kill? Will he become the same sort of scum that killed his parents? The sort of scum he swore to never become. It’s a question he can’t answer and it’s tearing him up inside.

He’s not shaking, but he feels like he should be. Everything feels like he should be bordering on a panic attack, but he’s not because he’s trained those sorts of useless responses out of his body.

The second he woke up, he had already slipped into a calming breathing technique that quelled all the shakes and tremors that wanted to take over his body. The breathing technique really only works to calm the physical symptoms of his distress; the mental ones he’ll have to use meditation techniques to deal with. But, he can’t muster up the focus and concentration to meditate.

He feels lost and disorientated and there’s a sizzling of fear deep in his gut that he just can’t ignore.

He feels like a little boy who has just lost his parents.

‘It’s okay. I’m here.’ The connection warms up and wraps around him. It’s a hug—something he hasn’t had in many many years—and Bruce feels something ease in his chest.

He doesn’t have the answer to his problems. He has no idea what he’s going to do about R’as. He has less idea what he’s going to do about Talia—he doesn’t know what he feels for her, but he wants to understand it.

Everything will work out, though. He’ll analyze the problem, create a plan, and execute it when the time is right. He lies down in bed and closes his eyes. His eyes droop closed and Bruce realizes he didn’t need to meditate after all.

(Dick buries his face into his mother’s chest, his father’s strong arms wrapped around both of them. He tries to tell Mommy and Daddy that they were scared and he thinks they had a bad dream, but they don’t understand. Mommy and Daddy keep asking who they are, and Dick doesn’t know what to tell them. But, they need a hug, but they’re too far to get it, so they’ll have to share a hug. Dick will cuddle with Mommy and Daddy until they feel better, and they will feel it wherever they are—too far away for Dick to hug and Dick really wants to give them a hug.)

* * *

It’s been five years since Bruce first felt his soulmate. He’s twenty-three now and he’s given up hope of ever meeting them. At first he thought that meeting them would be worth it, but that was before he took up the mantle of the Batman. If he allows his soulmate into his life, they’ll be at risk, a hostage to be used against either Batman or Bruce Wayne. It’s not worth it. He’d rather be alone then have to live with the risk of losing them.

Not everyone meets their soulmate; very few people do, usually only those rich enough to travel the world in search of them. As far as the tabloids are concerned, Bruce Wayne spent five years traveling the globe searching for his soulmate and failed. Not a lie, but definitely not the truth. It’s a nice bit of subterfuge that he can use to hide all the training he put into becoming Batman, the odds of meeting your soulmate was so small and the world was just so large that a rich man spending five years trying to do so was not unthinkable.

It’s not surprising that in his final moments he’s thinking about his decision to ignore his soulmate. He’s trapped in a room that is slowly filling with water. His utility belt is probably with whoever managed to knock him out and bring him in here. He’s examined every square inch of this room and there is no way he’s getting out of here. Maybe if he hadn’t been so sloppy he wouldn’t be in this situation.

But he was, and this Scarecrow villain gassed him. Bruce has no idea what was in the gas or how long the effects will last. He just knows the untamable fear that’s crept into every inch of his being. He’s watching as a pair of bodies collapse in front of him, he’s hearing the crack of a gunshot, and he’s smelling the coppery tinge of blood in the air.

It’s all in his head, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

He’s lost. He can’t get out, he can barely think, and with him stuck in here Gotham doesn’t stand a chance at survival.

Some protector he turned out to be.

It’s better this way, if he had met his soulmate, he probably would have failed them too.

It comes out of nowhere. A gush of warmth and hope and ‘Don’t give up! You can do this!’ Bruce feels his spine straighten, his eyes begin searching the room again for a way out.

But he still can’t find one, and it’s frustrating because for a second he almost believed he could do this. Could fight his way out of this thick fear.

‘I’m waiting for you.’ This connection between them is not conveyed through words, but if it were, Bruce knows exactly what it would be saying. ‘I want to meet you. You can do this. I believe in you.’

And his eyes fall on the answer.

He’s up to his neck in water and he feels like an idiot because he hasn’t been trapped here. If he’d just used his head and his eyes he could have been out of here ages ago.

It’s ridiculous. He hasn’t even met this person and they’ve already given him so much.

‘You’re not alone.’

He holds the connection as closely as he can—it helps him focus, keeps him grounded, the only thing that helps him keep going—when he escapes and saves Gotham.

(Dick is still cheering an hour later, much to his parents confusion.)

* * *

Dick is six years old and he understands what being empty feels like.

Mommy and Daddy used to explain to him what they felt like before they met their soulmate. Dick didn’t get it. He has never felt alone. There has always been the other part of him just out of reach somewhere. It’s far away and Dick doesn’t like that. He wants it to be close to him all the time. It’s sad sometimes, and Dick doesn’t know how to make it feel better.

Yesterday, it had been scared and angry and all mixed up. Dick didn’t know what to do to make it feel better. He cuddled with Mommy and Daddy, and that helped a little, but not enough. They had a show last night, the last one here in Mexico, and Dick had flown and he felt happy, but that made it even more scared.

They were supposed to go to the United States now, but Mommy and Daddy are worried about aliens. Aliens are from outer space and sometimes they come to Earth, at least that’s what Mommy says. The aliens are fighting with the superheroes, like Superman—who can fly, and pick up buildings, and fly, and shoot lasers from his eyes, and fly!—but Dick isn’t supposed to be listening when Mommy and Daddy are talking about that. He is supposed to be sleeping, but if he doesn’t tell them he’s awake, they won’t know.

It is when he was listening to them talk about the aliens that he feels it leaving. They are leaving, going far, far, far away. Farther than they’ve ever been, so far, Dick feels them fading away. He screams, scrambles down from the top bunk, and bolts for the window. Mommy and Daddy both jolt up, he hears them bang their heads on the top bunk, and their whispers stop.

“Dick?” Mommy asks and tries to pull him back.

He struggles and fights and claws his way to the window, He stares up at the sky, because he can feel them leaving going up, up, up past the moon and the stars until he can’t feel them anymore.

It’s gone. He feels like an ice cream tub that someone scooped all of the ice cream out of and threw on the ground and stomped on.

He hurts. There’s a piece of him gone and he’ll never ever get it back. And it’s his fault. It has to be his fault. “I’m sorry!” he screams, tears gushing down his face. “I won’t listen to Mommy and Daddy! I won’t do it again! Come back! Please!”

“Dick, what are you talking about?” Daddy wraps his arms around Dick and picks him up.

Dick would struggle, but he doesn’t have the energy to do it. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything, it was all scooped out with the rest of the ice cream.

He keeps mouthing the words over and over again for days. “Please, come back. Please, come back. Please, come back.”

Mommy keeps trying to get him to eat, but he doesn’t want to eat. Not when he’s missing something so important. Daddy tries to get him to sleep, but he can’t. What if it tries to come back but it needs his help? He can’t help it if he’s asleep.

He stares at the sky and refuses to move. He hears Mommy crying softly sometimes and he wants her to feel better, but Dick can’t help her. Not when he’s empty like this.

He feels awful and he aches and it feels like if he could look inside himself he would see jagged edges because parts of him were torn away instead of being carefully cut along the dotted lines.

“Is it possible we’ve wandered out of his soulmate’s range?” Mommy asks Daddy.

“I doubt he has a soulmate, Mary. He’s too young, if he met his soulmate, we would know. There’s no way he’d be able to hide it from us and why would he?”

“Maybe he hasn’t met them.”

“Then a connection wouldn’t have forged. He wouldn’t be acting like—like—”

“Someone who has had their soulmate ripped from him?”

“Mary, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s acted like he’s had a soulmate before. He’s always insisting that someone needs a hug or had a nightmare or is having a good day.”

“I thought we agreed he had an imaginary friend.”

“And, now we’re agreeing that he has a soulmate.”

Dick gasps and everything else disappears. It’s coming back, it’s faint but he can feel it. He looks for it in the sky, but he can’t see it. It’s still too far away. But it’s closer now, close enough for Dick to feel the rest of him.

When he’s full again, when he can feel all of himself back where it belongs, he starts crying. “Don’t do that again!” he sobs, and tries to wipe the tears from his face as he clings to the part that went missing. “You’re not allowed to leave me like that ever. Never ever ever!”

‘I’m sorry. I had to.’

“I don’t care! Don’t do it ever again!”

Dick is still shaking and crying, but he notices, he’s in Daddy’s lap now. Daddy smells safe and he’s warm and everything is okay now.

“Dick?” Mommy is crying softly and Dick reaches out to hug her.

“It’s okay, Mommy. They came back. They left and it hurt and I was empty because they took all of me, but they came back, so I’m all back together now.”

“Did you meet them somewhere?” she whispers softly.

Dick shakes his head because his other part has never been anywhere near him.

“When did you first feel them?”

“Always.”

“You’ve always felt it in Mexico?” Daddy asks.

“No, I’ve always felt them.”

“Dick.”

“Always. That was the first time ever they were gone.”

Mommy and Daddy look at each other.

“Are you sure?” Mommy asks.

“Yes.” He glances up and notices that Daddy doesn’t look like he believes him. He sighs and Mommy’s lip twitches as she looks at him. “Daddy,” he says patiently, “it’s the rest of me. Some of me is here, but the rest is far away. It’s always been far away. But, it’s a part of me, so I always know where it is. It would be silly if I didn’t know where some of me is, right?”

“Well, yes.” Daddy says.

“Which is why I always know where the other part of me is. It went away for a little while, but it came back. Okay?”

“Okay.” Daddy agrees, but Mommy looks like she might start laughing.

“Mommy,” he says after a moment of silence, “can I have a sandwich.”

Mommy looks so happy and her eyes get teary. She has to reach up and wipe away some of the tears, before she reaches towards Dick and gives him a big hug—bigger than the one he gave her earlier. “You can have whatever you want, Robin.”

(Bruce is filled with a relief so deep, he wants to cry. The Earth was almost destroyed and his soulmate with it. He hadn’t thought leaving the Earth would be so bad, he had never realized how empty he used to feel. It wasn’t until he could feel the last threads of the connection snapping as they passed the moon that he remembered. It was awful and horrible in ways he wished he didn’t understand, but if he hadn’t gone through with it—he can’t bring himself to think of the consequences. From Mount Justice he flies home to the manor, and clinging to their connection, he falls asleep.)

* * *

It’s been seven years since Bruce first felt his soulmate. It’s been four hours since he returned from a mission in outer space. He’d been gone for five days and he’d been shocked when he returned only to realize how close his soulmate was. He’d thought about making a detour to go find them, but Alfred had reminded him he had a date for the circus tonight.

Alfred would have rescheduled in seconds if he knew that Bruce wanted to find his soulmate, but he had already made the decision to keep his soulmate safe. And they would never be safe if they associated with him, regardless, of whether or not he was wearing the cowl.

It’s not until he’s dressed for the night and walking to the front door with Alfred does he tune in enough to his soulmate to notice where they are.

Somewhere in Gotham.

They have to be. They’re too close to be anywhere, but inside Gotham.

He falters in his stride, the brief hesitation would be completely unnoticeable anyone.

“Master Bruce?”

Unless they were Alfred Pennyworth.

He toys with the idea of lying or misleading Alfred. And then he remembers that Alfred cooks for him, picks out the clothes he wears, and has known him since he was born. “They’re nearby.”

Alfred nods his head. “Will you be going after them?”

“No, Alfred. It’s better this way.”

“Very well, sir. Shall we be on our way?”

“Yes.” Bruce doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that Alfred let it go. Normally, he makes his disapproval of Bruce avoiding his soulmate very clear. But, this time, he let it go. Alfred’s given up on the matter. And if Alfred’s given up that means that Bruce will never meet his soulmate.

The realization hurts. Without Alfred to force him to do otherwise, Bruce knows that he will never seek them out. He decided this a long time ago. It’s too risky, he knows this, he chose this, but still, it’s not until this moment that he’s understood it.

It burns. It feels like he’s decided to cauterize a part of his soul when he tries to accept his choice. It’s not easy, but he has to do it.

‘It’s okay! Don’t be sad! Come find me and I’ll make you feel better.’

He ignores the feeling because he won’t look for them. He will admit, though, that it’s a nice change from the earlier bombardment of: ‘You left! You left me! Don’t do that! Stay with me! Don’t leave me!’

He needs to find a way to block this connection between them. He has no idea what the range between them is, he knows it doesn’t extend past the moon, but as they live and work on Earth, that’s not exactly the most useful distance. It’s frustrating because he can’t think of a single time on Earth when they felt like they were too far apart. His soulmate has felt far away, but not so far as to indicate then limit of their connection.

There has to be an explanation, but none of his research into the subject has given him any clues. The strongest bond in history recorded spanned most of Europe, cutting off just past the Russian border. But, it had been stationary, had the couple been outside Europe the strength of their bond shrunk dramatically to 7 124 square kilometres. The couple had been together for over fifty years and spent a good deal of their lives traveling across Europe.

Normally, a connection forms after you’ve met your soulmate, not before. It spans roughly the area a couple live in, usually it only covers a city, but occasionally it will cover an entire state. It really all depends on how strongly the two care for each other.

The first indication you’ve met you’re soulmate are the words that appear on your skin. There have been cases of people knowing their soulmate for years before words appear on their skin. But, it’s always followed that pattern. Words and then a connection.

Bruce doesn’t have any words on his body to indicate he’s met his soulmate. He knows he’s never met them. He just doesn’t understand why this connection is so strong.

If he can just figure it out—‘Yay! You’re almost here!’

Bruce is startled out of his thoughts by the sudden barrage of excitement. He’s made his decision and he doesn’t want to meet his soulmate.

There’s a sharp pain in his chest and it takes Bruce a second to realize it doesn’t belong to him. ‘You don’t want to meet me?’

The wave of guilt he feels belongs to him, and as much as he would like to reassure his soulmate, he can’t. He’s made his decision and he won’t change his mind.

He feels his guilt and resolve being shoved aside, and in its place is a stubborn determination that does not belong to him. ‘If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.’

Bruce almost laughs. He’s positive that if his soulmate really wanted to meet him, they would have shown themselves back in Ukraine.

When they arrive at the circus, Bruce is surprised that Alfred pulls into the designated parking lot, parks the car and gets out to join him. “I didn’t know you were staying for the show.”

“Neither did I, Master Bruce. Miss Dores should be waiting for us by the entrance.”

Bruce is suspicious. He’s even more suspicious by the fact that he knows his soulmate is somewhere nearby. Close enough that Bruce is honestly considering bailing on his date for the night and staying in the safety of the manor for the night.

“Alfred,” he begins, he’s not exactly sure how he’ll ask his question delicately enough that breakfast isn’t a disgusting mess tomorrow when Alfred speaks.

“Honestly, Master Bruce, no need to be so mistrustful. I’m merely coming along to ensure you don’t leave the circus before your soulmate has time to track you down.”

There are a lot of things Bruce can say to that, but he’s mostly stuck on the part where Alfred knows his soulmate is somewhere nearby. “How do you know there here?”

“Perhaps, Master Bruce,” Alfred rest a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and begins guiding him towards the entrance of the circus, “if you had thought about their migratory patterns—how they stayed in a place for a couple of days before traveling a large distance to stay somewhere else—instead of brooding in the back seat, you would also have come to the conclusion that they lived a lifestyle that required them to be constantly on the move. A lifestyle similar to one found to those who live in a circus, if I were to guess.”

“I wasn’t brooding.” he says immediately. It’s the only thing he can say. He does his best to avoid thinking too much about his soulmate. If he thinks about them too much, he’ll figure out their location, and then who knows what will happen.

They have a migratory lifestyle, they’re in Gotham, the circus is in Gotham. That was the basic path of logic that Alfred had followed. It was a gamble Alfred had taken, there was no guarantee that his soulmate was at the circus. Even if they hadn’t been at the circus, Alfred had probably been betting they’d go see it.

He’s trapped. He can’t take the car and leave because Alfred will refuse to come and stay behind. His meals will then become things he can’t stand. He can’t go into the big tent because then he’ll be a sitting duck. If he walks around the circus, Alfred will follow, but he’ll be upset and mealtime will be ruined. He could take a taxi and go home, but that doesn’t change the fact that Alfred is responsible for feeding him and knows all the things he hates to eat.

As long as Alfred cooks for him, Bruce will always be forced to weigh the things he wants for himself against the things Alfred wants for him.

Bruce is giving in not because he wants to meet his soulmate—he would rather they be safe than with him, honestly—but because it’s very hard to win a fight with Alfred.

Marcy Dores is the type of partner Brucie Wayne is expected to have hanging off of him. She’s an omega with large breasts, a perfect smile, and a father rich enough to make up for her empty head. The celebrity magazines are all eagerly awaiting for her words to pop up on his skin, which is part of the reason a small group of paparazzi are gathered around the entrance taking pictures of her.

When he makes his way over to her, there’s a barrage of flashes and a couple of questions thrown his way. He has his arm around Marcy’s waist, the persona of Brucie in place, everything is going as it should.

‘I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!’

Brucie slips away and Bruce is left standing in shock. He remembers back in Ukraine when they refused to show themselves. They had wanted him to go to them, and Bruce just had not been able to find them.

A part of him hadn’t believed they would show up.

Why now? Why not then when they had ached to be with him and he’d been so close, but so far away?

He’s staring in one direction and there’s a tug that pulls him towards the other end of the connection. He won’t take a step forward, though, not this time.

Alfred steps past him, “Would you mind stepping aside?”

The reporter who had been in front of Bruce moves, almost collapsing to the ground in relief.

He’s channeling too much Batman. He needs to reign it, but he can’t, not when his soulmate is so close to him.

He needs to leave. He made his decision and he needs to stick to it.

‘No! You can’t leave me!’

He turns on his heel because this can’t happen.

“Dick!” he hears a women cry out.

There’s a weight on his back, arms and legs wrapped firmly around him, he can feel soft panting against his neck. He shouldn’t look, but he does anyway.

He cranes his neck and takes his first glimpse at his soulmate.

All he sees are a vibrant pair of blue eyes.

Bruce is at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to look away from these eyes.

“You’re not allowed to leave me. Wherever you go, I go.” He hears, and he feels the words sear into the skin around his neck like a noose. “Okay?”

He flounders for a moment before finding his voice. “No. I can’t take you everywhere I go.”

He feels the hurt pool in his stomach. “Why not?”

There are so many reasons and only some of them he can say in a public place surrounded by paparazzi. But, he doesn’t have to say anything because he feels the confused acceptance of his silence.

“You left and I didn’t like it.”

“I noticed.”

“All of me gets scooped out and leaves with you. It hurts.”

“I know.”

“Don’t leave again.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Why not?” Those blue eyes are watery and he hears a small sniffle in the voice. It makes Bruce feel like a monster, but it also reminds him that all of those off-planet missions he’s done has been for the safety and wellbeing of all those who live on Earth, especially the safety and wellbeing of his soulmate.

“What I do is important.”

“Can you try not to leave?”

“Try?”

“Uh-huh. Try to stay with me. I don’t like when you’re gone.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

“I promise to try not to leave.” The second the first four words leave his lips, he knows that those are the words that appear on his soulmate: I promise to try.

He hears a little hiss and small hands plant themselves on his shoulder. The legs unwind themselves from around his waist, there’s a pressure on his shoulders as the body swings up over his head, and Bruce regrets the brief separation, but suddenly there’s a body falling in front of him and Bruce catches it.

He’s holding a small child.

He has messy dark hair that’s too long to be considered short, but too short to be considered long. His nose is small and his pink lips are barely any larger. His ears stick out noticeably and the hug he grips Bruce is more emotional than physical and all Bruce can feel is ‘Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!’ Everything about him just sends the message that this kids would be an amazing soulmate.

For a child.

Bruce would ask how old he was, but with his luck, the answer will be seven.

He turns to look at Alfred, small child clinging to him and his little face buried back into his neck—and he can feel a sparking sensation on his neck where his words and the boy’s skin meet—because this has gone from a touching first meeting with his soulmate to him holding a small child he has never met before.

“Well, our meeting in Ukraine makes a lot more sense.” It’s the female voice from earlier and when Bruce turns to look at the owner, he recognizes her.

How could he not? It’s only been seven years and she was the closest lead to his soulmate he ever had. Her eyes are blue, a different shade than the boy’s in his arms, but her hair has the same look as the boy’s. When a couple of silky strands brush against his cheeks, he wonders if they both have the same texture.

“Does it now?”

The woman reaches for the boy and Bruce tenses. He doesn’t want to give him back, he wants to keep him—hide him away somewhere no one else can see him. Keep him hidden until his first heat and then—but he forces himself to remember that he’s a small child and his mother wants him back.

A tiny hand reaches up and pats him on the cheek. ‘Don’t be sad. I’m right here.’ He feels the emotions before he hears the words. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to my mom.”

Bruce nods and releases his grip, just enough to allow the boy to pull back and reach for his mother who pulls him towards him and settles him on her hip.

He starts aching. He wants the boy back in his arms. He feels an echo of his feelings and the boy grimaces, before squirming out of his mother’s grip. He pulls her closer to Bruce, close enough that she can keep her grip on the boy’s right hand, which has words in Bruce’s handwriting spiraling down his pinky finger, comfortably, as he winds his small arm around Bruce’s leg.

“I was so scared that day,” she continues, “when you stopped me, you had the most terrifying expression on your face.” Bruce has so many things he wants to say, but none of the necessary words come to him as more than a wisp of an idea. “Dick had been so happy that morning, but the second you came up he was so quiet. I thought you had done something to set him off.” She runs her fingers through Dick’s—and finally he has a name—hair, giving him a fond smile. “He was inconsolable for days afterwards. It’s so relieving to know there was a reason for those days. I’ve always worried that I failed him in some way to make him scream like that.”

“I cried?” Dick asks, pulling his face away from Bruce’s leg just enough so that he can see his mother.

“For days afterwards.”

Dick hums and closes his eyes, and Bruce feels a warmth pooling inside him. This is nice, inconvenient and liable to get him killed in the field, but nice.

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you mind telling me when the connection formed? We tried asking Dick, but he just says—”

“Always, mom. Always, always, always.”

Bruce is startled to realize he closed his eyes, and when he opens them, he sees the woman looking amused at him. It’s enough to make him wonder if their expressions had matched in that moment. “I was here in Gotham, on March 20th, 2007, at 8:21 pm.”

They live a migratory lifestyle, and while Bruce hadn’t been able to measure the distance between them very well at first—hadn’t had any sense of distance besides ‘here and not here’ until Ukraine—he knows that they were far enough to not be surprised if they were on the other side of the Prime Meridian and he wants to know the answer to this probably more than she does, so he provides her with all of the relevant information he can think of.

He can see her thinking back to that time, probably trying to calculate the time difference between Gotham and wherever they were at the time. Her eyes widen and she stares at him. “That would be around the time he was born,” she whispers.

That answers none of his questions and just leaves him with more. Bruce isn’t sure where to begin, he just knows that he has to solve the mystery of this connection or he’s never going to be able to focus on something else.

There’s a smug satisfaction that’s resting in his chest. It doesn’t belong to him.

“So,” Dick says, “I’ve always felt it?”

Bruce doesn’t have to look down to know that Dick is smirking and he can feel his own lips twitching in amusement.

Mary laughs and ruffles his hair. “Yeah, you’ve always felt it, Dick. How could I have ever doubted you?”

There’s a slight scuffle coming from the crowd and when Bruce looks towards them, he’s horrified to see it’s grown quite a bit with both reporters and Gothamites crowding around them watching this moment. He feels violated. This moment is special and it is just supposed to be him and his soulmate—and his soulmate’s mother and Alfred—but come morning, he knows this is going to be splashed across the front page of just about every paper here in Gotham.

It’s also very concerning that he didn’t notice the growing crowd. He can’t afford to be unobservant. A single lapse in his awareness could result in his death or the death of someone else.

“The show is about to start, we need to get to our places. We can talk more afterwards.” the woman says, gently pulling Dick away.

“Before you leave,” Alfred steps forward and speaks for the first time, “perhaps a brief introduction? It’ll be much easier for us to find you if we have your names.”

The woman blinks startled. “Oh, right. Where are my manners?” She laughs and stretches out a hand towards Alfred. “My name is Mary Grayson and this is my son, Richard.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grayson. I am Alfred Pennyworth.”

When Alfred steps back, Bruce steps forward and grasps her hand. She has calluses, similar to the ones he felt on Dick’s hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

Mary smiles at them and steps back, taking Dick with her. Dick is pouting and he refuses to take his eyes off Bruce and that makes him want to smile. “Go with your mom.”

Dick huffs and steps away from Mary long enough to lunge at Bruce and wrap his arms around him in a hug.

Bruce can’t help but notice that Dick is so small he doesn’t reach his hips. He’s tiny really, and with him clinging to Bruce like this, it is horribly noticeable. It worries Bruce, reminds him of how easily someone so small could be hurt. He feels protective of this child he has just met, protective and possessive and he knows himself well enough to accept that an obsession is in the process of forming—an obsession with this small boy who is his soulmate and other half—someone who belongs solely to Bruce, who’s existence, arguably, revolves around Bruce.

“Dick, come on, we have to go or we’ll be late.”

Dick clings harder to Bruce. “One more minute.” The warmth that fills up his chest belongs to him this time and he can feel an echo of the feeling bouncing back at him when Dick lets out a sigh and squeezes even tighter.

Mary crosses her arms, but doesn’t say a word, a fond smile on her lips.

Bruce allows the hug to go on for another minute before pulling back. Dick whines and scrambles to maintain his grip. “One more hug, please! Just one more!”

Bruce understands how he feels because he can feels it too, their wants and desires matching perfectly and feeding off each other, but he needs to be the responsible adult here—because Dick is seven and incapable of doing so.

It’s not easy, but Bruce crouches down and wraps one arm around his shoulders. “You need to go with your mom now.” he whispers.

Dick makes a high-pitched keening noise that Bruce will do almost anything to get him to stop and never make again. He panics, wraps Dick into a proper two-armed hug, and holds him close with wide eyes. Dick goes quiet and Bruce can feel the smug satisfaction radiating from him. When he tries to pull away, Dick starts again and when Bruce stops, the heart-wrenching noise stops as well.

He’s stuck and not sure what to do.

“Well,” Mary laughs, “it certainly didn’t take him very long to get you wrapped around his little finger.”

Bruce would deny it, but he really can’t. Instead, he turns to Alfred for help. Alfred is too polite to laugh, but there’s an amused glint in his eye and the curve of his lips that says his amusement far more clearly if he had let out a chuckle.

“Dick, we have to go.”

Dick lets out a long drawn out sigh. “One more minute.”

“Okay, Dick, you can stay here then, I’m going to meet your father for the show.”

“Really?” Dick perks up, bouncing on his toes.

“Yep. You’ll have to sit out, though, so I guess Bruce won’t get to see how well you can fly.”

“What? No! I want him to see!”

“Well, then, I guess we better leave and prepare, shouldn’t we?”

Dick lets out a loud groan. “Fine. You win.” He takes a step towards his mother, and it takes all of his self-control not to snatch the boy back and hide him away somewhere private. Dick gives him a grin and Bruce knows the boy is amused by his emotions. “Okay, so I’m going to do a flip for Timmy because he’s a cute little baby and I promised him earlier, but I’m going to do my special flip just for you, okay, Bruce?”

“Okay.”

“So, your flip will be second because I already promised Timmy and he’s a baby, so I can’t break my promise, but everything should work out, right?”

“Right.”

“Timmy’s a really cute baby. Do you like babies?”

“Yes?”

“That’s good.”

“It is?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, because when I grow up, we’re going to get married and I’m going to have your babies, so it would be bad if you didn’t like babies.”

Bruce is so confused right now. How did their conversation even come to this point?

“You’re seven.” Bruce points out.

Dick is amused. Bruce can feel the tendrils of his amusement seeping up from his stomach. “That’s why I said when I grow up.”

“Dick, let’s go. We can talk more about your future babies later.” They leave, and as they approach the crowd of people surrounding them, it parts for them, as if everyone is afraid to stand in the way of Bruce Wayne’s soulmate.

“What just happened?” he turns to Alfred for an explanation, but Alfred just smirks.

“I do believe, Master Bruce, that you finally met your soulmate. Now, you have a show to get to.”

“Right.” He starts walking towards the tent, silently wondering how he’s going to get through the crowd in front of him, when he hears Alfred clear his throat. “Yes?”

“I was under the impression Mrs. Dores would be accompanying you to the show.”

Bruce blinks, and turns to stare at the woman. “Right, of course.” He makes his way back over to her and offers his arm, “Marcy.”

Her eyes narrow and Bruce can see her working the situation around in her mind. She hesitates for a moment before plastering on her perfect smile and sliding her arm into his. They turn to face the crowd and there’s the flash of a camera. Reporters start hurling questions at them and Bruce is forced to try to answer enough that they give him space to escape, but still vague enough to retain his privacy.

When they do manage to make their way to their seats, Bruce feels the link flare up. ‘Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong! Listen to me!’

Bruce reaches out to comfort Dick, and feels the boy reach back to him. Dick’s distress worsens and Bruce is seconds away from leaping to his feet, hunting down what’s upset him, and beating the crap out of it, when Dick’s emotion change to a reluctant acceptance.

He’s not sure what to do, but he’s not sure if he’s needed. Dick is seven years old, and it wouldn’t surprise him if something small upset him. Still, he promises himself to stay alert on the off chance Dick noticed something important.

The show starts and Bruce finds himself wondering which act Dick is a part of. Mary said he would fly and Dick said he’d do flips. They both had calluses on their fingers, and when Bruce glances at the top of the tent he can see why. They’re trapeze artists.

Which sounds useful and like something he can incorporate into Batman’s arsenal. He doesn’t have a lot of aerial work in his repertoire, but that’s mostly because it’s harder to find a mentor for those stunts and honestly, he’d rather keep both feet firmly on the ground.

When their set begins, Bruce feels Dick’s excitement building. The Graysons stand up on the platform and wave to the crowd. Dick takes a second to point towards him, and Bruce watches as the man up there turns to look at him. The ring leader is still introducing them and Dick is scanning the crowds looking for someone else—probably Timmy—and Bruce feels his joy when he finds him and waves.

They’re amazing. The way they move and cut through the air, it’s as if they’re flying. Dick stands on the platform, turns to look at the crowd, waves at someone—Timmy?—leaps to his mother’s outstretched arms, and does a triple somersault to his father. Bruce feels his jaw slip ever so slightly.

His jaw drops completely when Dick makes his way back to the platform, turns to look at him and waves. He knows without a doubt, that Dick is about to perform his “special flip”. His quadruple somersault is perfect and Bruce is shocked. A quadruple somersault is something he has never bothered to attempt, but that’s mostly because it’s completely impractical.

The crowd goes wild. Dick’s excitement and happiness rushes through Bruce as he’s tossed back to his mother who throws him back to the platform. Dick is standing on the platform, taking a deep bow and happiness is pouring out of him and into Bruce when it happens.

The trapeze lines snap and the Graysons plummet to the ground.

A silence sweeps over the crowd and Bruce finds himself drowning in Dick’s emotions.

There’s a moment of confusion as Dick stares at his parents as they fall. A spark of innocence that is snuffed out the second they hit the ground. The shock comes next, before comprehension seeps in, and finally grief.

Dick lets out a half-sob half-shriek noise that jolts the audience back to action. Bruce loses sight of him, as the people around him get up from their seats and begin talking over themselves. Some are rushing for the tent doors, but others lean in closer to the centre stage for a closer look.

“Alfred.” He says, standing to his feet and pushing his way towards the centre ring.

“Understood, sir.” Alfred exits the tent and Bruce is relieved that Alfred knows him well enough to know what to do next.

Dick beat him to the stage and he kneels over the corpses of his parents, gently shaking their shoulders. Bruce can’t make out the words of what he says to them, but he doesn’t need to.

Not when he’s said them all himself.

The ringleader—Haly—places his hands on the boy and tries to gently pull him away. He doesn’t manage to drag him more than a couple of feet away before Dick starts making that horrible keening sound that forces Bruce to sprint to his side.

“Dick.” He murmurs and crouches down and opens up his arm.

He can see the Haly’s eyes narrow as he pulls Dick back, he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when Dick runs into his arms crying, “Bruce!”

Bruce can’t tell him it’s okay or that he’ll be alright. He doesn’t have it in him to offer any sort of false consolation.

After a moment Dick pulls away and turns to look at Haly. “It was him. I saw him coming from the back and he wasn’t supposed to be there! I told them he was bad, but they wouldn’t listen. Why wouldn’t they listen to me?”

“Dick, who are you talking about?” Haly asks.

“Tony Zucco. The man you were fighting with earlier.”

Haly’s eyes harden and his spine straightens.

A woman clears her throat and Bruce recognizes her as the woman who sat two seats left of Alfred. “I’m Natalia Khomenko and I work for CPS.”

Bruce stands, bracing Dick on his hip as the boy shies away and hides his face in Bruce’s neck, and turns to face her.

It was going to be a very long night.

(Dick huddles against Bruce and tries to cope with what’s going on, but there’s too much inside him. Just forcing out the sentences about Zucco took so much effort and Dick can barely manage the strength or focus for anything else. There’s a hum of understanding rushing through Bruce and Dick clings to it because it’s the only thing that makes any sense. He hurts. He hurts in a different way than when Bruce was gone this morning. It’s a hurt he’s never experienced and doesn’t know how to deal with. The soothing balm of understanding from Bruce is the only thing that’s helping the ache and Dick has no idea what he’ll do if Bruce ever leaves him again.)


	2. Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter down! I feel accomplished. I hope you enjoy!

It’s been five hours since the deaths of Mary and John Grayson. Dick hasn’t left his side for a second. He sleeps with his head on Bruce’s chest, and Bruce knows that the guest bedroom Alfred will eventually set up for him will probably remain unused until Dick is willing to be separated from him. For now, though, it’s not an issue because they’re spending the night in Dick’s family trailer.  

The conversation with Natalia has Bruce worried. 

She said that transference of Dick’s guardianship to himself should be hassle-free, but Bruce can’t help but feel as if something is going to go wrong. 

Like he’s missing something important. An obvious clue that is going to bite him in the ass when he finally realizes it. It niggles at the back of his mind and he knows this is going to bother him until he figures it out. 

He needs to get some sleep. Dick hasn’t been released into his custody because beyond being soulmates Bruce has no real claim to him and no credentials that would have allowed the social worker to let Dick stay with him. Alfred, on the other hand, is a certified foster parent and he has maintained that status even though Bruce is an adult.  As of two hours ago, Richard John Grayson became Alfred Pennyworth’s temporary foster child. And he’ll stay Dick’s foster parent until Bruce can finagle a way to get guardianship himself. 

It’s just another one of those incidents where Alfred appears out of nowhere with the solution to a problem Bruce had no idea he would ever encounter. 

Dick whines in his sleep and his grief seeps into Bruce. 

It’s thick and cloying, pressing down on his chest, and for a second Bruce struggles to draw in a breath as Dick’s fear bubbles up in his stomach and Bruce tastes it in the back of his throat. He raises one hand and gently strokes Dick’s hair, projecting feelings of calm and his own desire to protect Dick. 

He’s not sure it works until Dick settles down in his sleep and he feels, ‘Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.’ 

“I won’t,” he promises and closes his eyes. 

(In his dreams, Dick watches as the bodies of his parents stay suspended in the air. Bruce appears and picks him up, holding him close. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe now.” Dick sobs softly and presses his face harder into Bruce’s chest. He has to hold onto this man. Even if he loses everything, Bruce is something that he can’t let go of. He’s a part of him and now that he’s finally altogether, Dick can’t let of him now. Bruce is the only thing keeping him together.) 

* * *

It’s been two weeks since his parents’ death and Dick is at the Centre. He’s been here for the entire two weeks. He doesn’t know why he’s here and not with Bruce. Normally, the only people who are around are other omegas and the staff workers. The littlest ones are still toddlers, but the older ones are almost all grown up. 

Once a day, a bunch of alphas come to visit. Sometimes a few betas are thrown into the mix, but mostly it’s alphas. A lot of them come to talk to him and they give him gifts and things and that makes the other omegas mad.  

Dick doesn’t really get it. He only comes out during visiting time because that’s when he gets to see Bruce. He doesn’t understand why he can’t stay with Bruce. 

Bruce promised he was going to fix this, find a way for Dick to come home with him. 

“Dick,” a small beta female walks into the room, “you have some visitors.” 

“Bruce said he’s not coming today,” he reminds her. Earlier, Bruce had called and Dick got to talk to him on the phone. It was better than nothing, but it wasn’t enough. The only thing that’s enough is being able to curl up in Bruce’s arms and cry a little until he feels better. After he cries he can play a game with Bruce and talk to him about stuff.

“Well, that’s no reason to stay cooped up in this room by yourself. Why don’t you come say ‘Hi’?” 

Dick lies down on his bed. It’s not a bunk bed and he has a room all to himself, while the other omegas have to share.  

He doesn’t really like being all alone. 

“They all stare at me. And they keep fighting every time I try to talk to someone. And the others are mad at me and I don’t know why.” He sits up, drawing his knees to his chest, and asks, “Why can’t I stay with Bruce?” 

“Dick, do you know why you’re here?” 

“Because I’m not allowed to stay with Bruce,” he sobs. He doesn’t want to cry, he’s not a crybaby, but he just wants to go home. But he’s not allowed to go home, just like he’s not allowed to stay with Bruce. 

The woman sighs and runs her fingers through her dark hair. She sits down beside him and hesitates before speaking. “Do you know why the other omegas are here?” 

“Because they’re not allowed to go home.” 

“No, that’s not—Dick, did anyone explain to you why we have different alphas coming to visit every day?” 

“No.” 

“Do you even know what this place is called?”

“The Centre.”

“No. Dick, this place is called the Omega Youth Guidance Program Centre. And, what we do here is we help Omega’s secure a good future.”

“How?” Dick wipes his tears away and turns to face her.

“We help them find good mates that will take care of them when they grow up.”

It’s a flash of hope and Dick grasps it immediately. “I don’t need help to find a mate, so can I go?”

“What?” The woman gives him a small smile. “And why don’t you need help finding a mate?”

“Because when I grow up I’m going to marry Bruce and have his babies.”

She throws her head back and laughs for a few seconds. “Well, I’m sure you think that now, but maybe you should come talk to some of the other alphas here, just in case you change your mind.”

“But, why?”

“Do you know anything about heats, Dick?”

“It’s hot?”

“Not the temperature, but about the things your body will go through when you’re older.”

“No,” Dick folded his legs underneath him and sat up straighter, “what is it?”

“When omegas grow up, sometimes they feel like they have a fever. It’s different for everyone, some omegas only experience it once a year; others feel it once a month. The important thing to know is that omegas can’t go to work when they have their heats. So, that means the omegas who have a lot of heats, miss a lot of work, so they can’t keep their jobs. That’s why we have this program. The omegas who are here can meet alphas who have a lot of money, so they can miss work and stay with their omegas when they’re in heat.”

“But what about the alphas that don’t have a lot of money? How do omegas meet them?”

“Well, if they don’t have a lot of money, then they can’t afford to miss work. Which means they can’t take care of you when you’re in heat.”

Dick hums softly, tossing the knowledge around in his head. “I wanna talk to Bruce about this,” he decides.

“Sorry, Dick, he’s not coming today. He’s very busy at work.”

“Can I go visit him?”

“No, Dick, we’re not allowed to take you anywhere without permission.”

“I can go by myself,” he insists.

“Not unless you can sneak out of here.” Dick tenses beside her and looks at her with wide eyes that flicker briefly to window in his room. “Besides, Dick, you don’t want to be outside of here until the Joker’s caught.”

“Who’s the Joker?”

“A very bad man who escaped from jail last night. No one’s safe until he gets caught again.”

Dick feels his heart beat faster in his chest at the thought of someone escaping prison, but before his fear can fully farm a cooling balm washes over him. ‘You’re okay. I’ll protect you.’

“Anyways, enough about that,” the woman continues, “are you going to come out and talk to the others?”

“No, thank you,” Dick says, lying down on the bed.

Standing the woman stretches and makes her way back to the door. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” he tells her with a bright smile.

He hears the door click closed and makes his way to the window. Opening it, he examines the ledge and the area around it. He’s pretty sure he can escape from here, but he knows he should check for a better exit first, instead of just climbing out here now.

Except, it turns out that he doesn’t have time to find a better exit. Several hours later, when the sky is dark and they start doing bed checks Dick feels Bruce. ‘Ow! I’ve have to get out of here! I have to get out of here! I’ll die if I don’t get out.’

Dick feels his heart stop. Bruce is in trouble and Dick knows he has to get to him. He’s hurt and stuck somewhere and Dick remembers what the staff member said about Joker. He can’t lose Bruce, he just can’t.

He grabs his shoes from the closet and ties the laces together and throws them over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of climbing out the window when someone pops their head in. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

The staff member walks in and Dick finishes climbing out the window. “I’m going to Bruce,” he tells him.

“Wait? What?” They lunge for him, but Dick is already climbing up the building. It’s instinct more than anything else that sends him up instead of down. The building is three stories high, and Dick was on the second one.

When he makes it to the top, he looks in the direction that Bruce is in. The building in that direction is far and he’s not sure if he can make the jump, and if he falls… The door to the roof slams open and people come pouring out of it.

It doesn’t matter if he thinks he can make the jump. Bruce is in trouble and Dick will not lose him because he’s afraid of falling. After all, he is a Flying Grayson.

(From inside the Joker’s death trap, Bruce is panicking. He wouldn’t be so concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that he knows Dick is on his way. No matter how much he tries to plead with Dick to stay where he is, his boy stubbornly pushes aside his insistence and replaces it with his resolve to come help Bruce. He’s making his way through Gotham alone, probably on foot, at night. And while the OYGPC may be in a nicer part of Gotham, Batman’s current location is located not too far from Crime Alley. Furthermore, Bruce knows that Dick is injured. He doesn’t know how or where, or how bad it is, he just knows his boy is hurt in some manner. This whole situation is a walking disaster and Bruce is going to have to deal with all of this before Dick gets anywhere near the Joker.)

* * *

Bruce has never dealt with the Joker so quickly nor so efficiently. Commissioner Gordon had just arrived at the scene and Bruce had vanished without saying a word to him. The only reason he had stayed long enough for the Commissioner to arrive on scene is because the last thing he needed was for the Joker to free himself and escape with no one watching him.

He’s in the car speeding down the roads to pick up Dick when the call comes in. “Ah, Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry to bother you so late, this is Alex Lorman.”

Bruce feels his lips pull into a snarl. Alex Lorman, the thorn in his side and the only reason Dick isn’t in his custody. He represented the thing that had kept Bruce up so late the night the Graysons had been murdered. OYGPC sounded nice in theory, but in reality it was just a way to commodify omegas.

And Dick, as Bruce’s soulmate had a lot of value. Access to Dick Grayson meant access to Bruce Wayne.

Bruce turned off his voice modulator before speaking. “How can I help you?”

“Earlier today, Mr. Grayson ran away from the Centre. He claimed he was going to you.”

“How did he escape?”

“He climbed out his window.”

Bruce chuckles softly, “Of course he did.”

“Mr. Wayne, if he’s with you, you must return him immediately or I will have you brought up on kidnapping charges.”

“He’s currently not with me. I’m actually in the process of going to pick him up from somewhere within the slums of Gotham. I’ll even bring him back for one last night to stay at the Centre. My thanks for losing him, if not for this, it would have been much harder to remove him from the program. Goodbye, Lorman, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers tomorrow.”

It takes just a touch button on the steering wheel to end the call and Bruce is left contemplating if he should change before grabbing Dick or continue on his path for him. It’s very hard to have Batman corroborate anything Bruce Wayne says unless he has Superman or Martian Manhunter play the part, but he would rather make sure that Dick was safe than make sure that Lorman had no grounds to claim he had orchestrated this whole event.

It was ridiculous really. The OYGP was keeping Dick less because he was an omega who needed help and more because he was Bruce’s soulmate.

The Centre offered a place for people to network around the idea that omegas were commodities. Are you struggling to find a job because you’re from Crime Alley? Well, if you have an omega child, that’s not a problem. I’ll hire you, as long as you let my child marry your kid.

Omegas in the program were often groomed from a young age in order to become the perfect trophy mate for whoever picked them out. They learned whatever their alpha told them to, wore whatever was picked out for them, and generally just did whatever was expected of them to keep their alpha happy.

Bruce understands why the program exists, but like many things in Gotham, it’s been corrupted to the point where it’s almost unrecognizable from what it’s supposed to be.

Before he can make a decision on whether or not to head to a safe house and change he feels Dick terror. ‘Oh no! What do I do? How do I help?’ Bruce reaches out to Dick, tries to reassure him that he’ll be there soon. He wants Dick to hide somewhere until Bruce is there to protect him, but when he feels a fiery determination welling up in his stomach, ‘I can do it! I’ll save you!’ he knows the message is being ignored.

There’s no choice about what to do and he presses down firmly on the gas pedal to push the car to go even faster.

There’s a sudden sharp flash of fear, an ‘Ow!’ and Bruce curses because the car can’t go any faster.

When he arrives, it’s too the feeling of Dick’s elation and emotional cries of, ‘I did it! I did it! I did it!’ He steps out of the car and into the shadows of the alley Dick is in. Dick immediately turns to face him, a beaming grin on his face, but Bruce’s attention is focused on the vibrant red slash across his throat and the bloodied mess of his left arm.

The cut on his throat is thin and just from his brief glance Bruce knows he’s fine.

But, that doesn’t stop the fear. Or the rage he feels when he sees two men on the ground, both groaning softly, as they struggle to get up. An open switchblade rests just out of their arms reach.

“Stay down,” he snarls and both of them freeze and lift their heads to stare at him. After a second the both lay face down on the ground, their hands resting on the back of their heads.

‘You’re here! You’re here! You’re here!’ Dick’s excitement races through his veins and Bruce’s eyes snap back over to him when he sees his boy’s mouth open.

Dick needs to stay quiet because Bruce does not need his secret identity shouted to the rooftops. There’s a soft confusion from Dick that gently melts into acceptance and Dick closes his mouth and turns to look at the other two occupants in the alley.

A brown haired woman and a blond toddler stand awkwardly off to the side. After a second the little girl giggles and wobbles over to Dick and holds her arms out to him.

Dick laughs and bends down to scoop her up. “Are you okay?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss to her nose.

“Yeah!” she claps her little hands before pressing them to Dick’s face.

Bruce walks over to the men and pulls out his zip ties and makes sure they won’t be escaping any time soon. If he’s a little rougher than normal, well, no one in the alley can prove it.

“Thank you for saving us.” He hears and turns to see the woman crouching to wrap Dick into a hug. He can’t help but notice the red splotch on her face that will surely bruise or the ragged tear that goes through her top.

“No problem!” he chirps back, before returning to pressing kisses to the child’s face.

He steps away from them and places a call to the police. Based on what he knows of the police patrol routes, he guesses that it’ll take another five minutes before anyone arrives.

“The police will be here soon,” he informs the others, as he steps back out of the shadows.

Before the woman can say anything in response, Dick pipes up. “I need something to write with.” He gives Bruce an expectant look and Bruce resists the urge to smirk at the look on the woman’s face at his boy’s sheer audacity.

Reaching into his utility belt, he pulls out a small pen and notepad. Dick takes it and smiles before scribbling down something, ripping the page out, and handing it to the woman. “Here,” he says, “call when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

“This is your phone number?”

“No, it’s Bruce’s. If you call him, he’ll tell me.”

“Well, that’s a very convoluted method. Here,” she takes the pen and notepad and writes something on it quickly, before handing it back to Dick, “why don’t you call me when you get home safely.”

She throws a pointed look over at Bruce and he nods his head in understanding.

“Now,” she continues, “is my little hero going to give me his name?”

“I’m Dick.”

“Well, Dick, I’m Crystal and this is my daughter, Stephanie. It’s very nice to meet you.”

(Dick throws himself at Bruce the second the car door closes behind him. Bruce starts driving slowly and carefully to a small alley, where they get out of the car and Dick watches amazed as it drives away on its own. During the drive, he explains that he’s a superhero, Batman, and his identity is a secret and no one is allowed to know that he’s Bruce Wayne. He didn’t come visit Dick today because the Joker escaped last night and Bruce spent all day trying to track him down, so he can put him back in jail. Dick doesn’t bother asking Bruce if he’s going to catch Tony Zucco, instead he wonders what kind of superhero he’ll be when he goes to help Batman catch him. After all, it doesn’t matter how much Bruce—Batman—tells him never to come find him if he thinks he’s in trouble. It’s like the words around Bruce’s neck say, wherever Bruce goes, Dick goes. He thinks of his parents and he knows his superhero name. Batman and Robin has a nice ring to it, he decides. And that’s a good thing to. Because there is no way Robin is going to let Batman fight crime alone.)

* * *

It’s been three weeks since the death of his parents. Dick sits in the Batmobile waiting for Bruce. He’s got his sneakers on and his favourite shorts and t-shirt. He’s ready for his first night of crime fighting.

When Bruce walks into the Batcave, Dick pokes his head out the window and calls for him. “Are we going now?”

Bruce stops in his tracks, halfway through towelling off his hair, and stares at him. “Going where?” There’s a creeping sensation crawling up his back and Dick recognizes it as Bruce’s caution.

“To stop the bad guys.”

The feeling sinks into his skin and settles in his tummy, but Dick doesn’t understand what Bruce is worried about.

“Dick,” Bruce says, opening the Batmobile’s door and pulling Dick out, “when I go out on patrol, you’re not coming with me.”

Dick is shocked and just a little hurt that Bruce doesn’t want him to come. “Why?”

‘It’s okay. Don’t be sad.’ Bruce scoops Dick up into his arms and Dick buries his face into his neck. Bruce smells nice and safe and his hugs are warm and Dick doesn’t think he ever wants to walk again. “It’s dangerous, Dick. You will be hurt if you come with me.”

“So,” he mumbles, “I don’t care.”

There’s an angry fire that races through his veins and Bruce pulls Dick away to look him in the eyes. ‘I care.’ “It’s too dangerous for you to come with me,” he repeats firmly.

Dick nibbles on his lower lip and tucks his face back into the crook of Bruce’s neck. He takes a few minute to carefully compose his thoughts before pulling back and speaking. “Will you get hurt?”

“I might.” Bruce responds, but Dick feels that creeping sensation again that lets him know how suspicious Bruce is feeling.

“Then I’m coming.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Dick, no.”

“Yes, Bruce, I’m coming.”

“I said ‘no’ and that’s final.”

“I’m coming and I’m going to protect you!”

There’s a flicker of fear and Bruce pulls back. ‘You’re not allowed to get hurt.’ “Out.” Calmly, Bruce places Dick onto the ground.

“What?” Dick reaches up for Bruce, grabs onto his arm and tries to pull himself back up into Bruce’s embrace. When Bruce pries Dick’s hands off and steps back, shaking his head, Dick can’t stop the wailing noise that comes from his throat. “Why?”

“I have some files I need to go over and you need to get ready for bed.” Bruce turns and begins walking towards the Batcomputer and Dick’s heart feels like it’s freezing over. It’s a terrifying sensation and confusing and Dick can’t understand why Bruce feels like this, why he would choose to close himself off like this.

“I don’t wanna go to bed. I want to stay with you.” Bruce pauses for a second, and Dick takes a deep breath when he feels his heart thawing back out. “Don’t leave me,” he begs.

“You can stay while I go over the files, but, Dick, you are not coming on patrol with me. Do you understand?”

Dick doesn’t respond because he doesn’t understand and he knows Bruce can feel that. Instead, he waits until the man sits down in his chair and curls up in his lap. It’s nice being able to sit with Bruce. He likes being held and he likes that if he turns his head just a little, he can press soft kisses to Bruce’s face. Bruce doesn’t really understand kisses which Dick finds to be rather confusing. Sometimes when he kisses Bruce on the lips, his man pulls back shocked and he gets uncomfortable. Dick really doesn’t get it. He used to sit in his mother’s lap, just like this, and whenever one of his kisses ended up on her lips she would smile and kiss him back.

It was nice and he misses it. Bruce doesn’t give a lot of hugs and kisses. He doesn’t even know the difference between snuggles and cuddles, but Dick is willing to teach him. He’s learned that if he presses a kiss to Bruce’s lips, when Bruce pulls back, if he makes small sad and scared noises, Bruce will give him a peck on the cheek. It’s a slow process, but he’s sure that eventually, Bruce will be used to giving him hugs and kisses, and when that happens, all of this will be worth it.

But it’s not time for him to train Bruce. Right now, it’s time for Batman to train Robin. And the first step of learning is to ask questions.

So, Dick asks questions about what Bruce is doing, makes him explain everything step-by-step until Dick understands it perfectly. He even gets Bruce to let him type up part of the report as he dictates it.

The stuff Bruce is doing seems boring, but Dick knows that if he’s going to be Robin, he’s going to have to be good at the boring stuff and the fun stuff. It’s like learning to fly on the trapeze. His parents taught him how to do all the fun tricks and how to set up the nets and the riggings and the other stuff to.

Dick doesn’t actually notice himself fall asleep. What he notices is Bruce leaving his room.

“Don’t leave me!” he cries, reaching for him. For a second, he’s disoriented. He knows he was in the Batcave, but now he’s in a room. He looks around as Bruce turns to face him and he thinks it’s the room Alfred set up for him.

Bruce walks back over and runs his hand through Dick’s hair. “Go back to sleep, Dick.”

“No, you’re leaving me.”

“Dick,” Bruce sighs, “I’ll be back soon.” There’s a soft itch in his blood. It’s warm and soft and nice, but it bothers him a little because he can’t scratch it. It’s weird and he doesn’t really get what Bruce is feeling right now, what that sensation is supposed to translate to. ‘So stubborn.’ It’s a good thing, though. It must be because it makes Dick want to smile.

“I wanna come with you,” he mumbles, reaching for a hug.

“Dick, no. We talked about this already.” The warmth begins to leech away from the itch and Dick tears up just a little because he doesn’t understand why Bruce is getting mad at him. He wants to be with him and keep him safe and he doesn’t know why that’s wrong. But, fine, if Bruce wants to be like that he can. Dick doesn’t have to listen to him. He’s not his dad.

His dad is dead.

Tears leak out and Dick lets out a small sob, as he pushes away from Bruce’s embrace. ‘It’s okay. I’m here.’ There’s a rush of warmth that reaches out to comfort him, but Dick is mad at Bruce so he ignores it.

He walks over to the window and opens it.

“Dick, what are you doing?”

He starts climbing out the window and he notices that Bruce put him in his pyjamas. “I’m going to fight crime.”

“Dick—”

“If you don’t take me, I’ll go by myself.” He’s dangling halfway out the window and he locks eyes with Bruce.

Bruce isn’t allowed to leave him. Except for the night Dick came here to stay, Bruce has left every night to go fight crime. He left Dick alone, even though he promised not to leave. And last night he got hurt. Dick saw the wound when Bruce was changing. He felt Bruce get hurt when it happened. The knowledge had slipped into his dreams, warping and changing it until Dick was staring down at Bruce’s dead body.

Carefully tucked between his parents’ corpses.

He can’t lose Bruce. So, Dick needs to stay with him and watch over him and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him.

Bruce maintains eye contact for a second before he closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. ‘How do I keep you safe?’ “You will stay in the car, Dick. You do not get out under any circumstances?”

It’s not what he wants, but it’s a small step in the right direction. Dick nods his head in agreement, knowing it’s only a matter of time until Batman and Robin are fighting crime together properly.

Bruce told Dick that he could have anything he wanted. Dick wants to be Batman’s partner, so he will be Batman’s partner.

“Do you mean stay in the Batmobile?” he asks.

“The what?”

“You said stay in the car, do you mean stay in the Batmobile?” Dick clarifies.

Bruce’s confusion is like a swirling of thoughts going around in his head, but his amusement is a warm rumble in his chest.

(Bruce knows that this truce is only temporary. Dick is determined and stubborn when he wants something and for whatever reasons he decided that he wants to fight crime. He needs to plan out how to keep Dick safe. Planning out how to keep him in the manor would probably require him to trap Dick in a windowless room with a door that locks from the outside… which is unfortunately not a very ethical solution. He’s probably going to have to give some ground. Maybe offer him some training, but make it boring awful training that will guarantee he will give up on this idea. He’s not sure what he’s going to do about Dick, he just knows he has to make a decision quickly.)

* * *

It’s been four months since the Graysons died. It’s late at night and Batman surveys a bank where a robbery is currently underway. Beside him, Robin, humming a familiar tune, is crouched with a pair of binoculars to do his own surveillance.

It’s been an interesting team dynamic. Batman has trained himself to be able to read people, to understand them better than they understand themselves using nothing but body language. It’s the one aspect of his training that Robin needs know help with. It’s something he might even be better at than his mentor. It’s a skill that goes farther than just being able to read people; he’s occasionally seen Robin manipulating people’s moods to his benefit. He has literally seen Robin say a single sentence that turned someone’s frown upside down.

The fact that it was Agent A makes it even more impressive than if it had been someone else.

“How many lookouts do you see?” he asks him.

The correct answer is seven, but from where they are, one of them can only be seen in the reflection of a store’s window beside the bank. Another one is walking his dog down the street, and then back up it, before going back down again. The last one Robin might have trouble picking out is a female who is cleverly disguised as a prostitute.

 “Six,” Robin says firmly, “there’s the guy with the dog, that one we can see in the window, the lady over there, and those three guys.” He points to each one as he identifies them.

“No,” he says, and sits down on the roof. Robin missed the security guard who most likely let the robbers in and it might take him a while to identify him. Batman is not concerned they might escape. He has eyes on all the exits of the bank and if they try to slip out of them Agent A will alert him. It’s better for now if he allows Robin to pick this apart now. To learn how to obtain information from surveillance and to never act without both a plan and all the data he can gather.

Batman won’t let Robin form any bad habits.

When Robin finally identifies the last lookout member, Batman has Robin plan out how to catch each of the members without alerting the others to their presence. It’s a slow process, but Batman refuses to allow Robin to rush through it. After they’re done, he has the Batmobile arrive at their location and makes sure Robin gets in.

“Stay in the Batmobile. I’ll be back soon.”

“I wanna help,” Robin whines.

A tingling sensation works its way into the back of his throat and Batman doesn’t need to feel it to know that Robin is eager, almost desperate, to help him. Robin’s is trying to rush his training too much. He’s going to end up getting hurt because of his hurry to do everything before he’s ready. But, at least three of the guards have guns and no amount of begging is going to get Batman to budge on this point.

“We’ve had this discussion, Robin. You need to have more training before you’re ready to face anyone with a gun.”

Robin pouts. “Please?”

“No.” He has to be firm with him. If he gives even an inch of ground to Robin, his boy will end up walking away with the entire solar system.

“Next time?”

“I have to go before they escape.”

It’s an avoidance. He knows that and Robin knows that, but neither of them will admit it out loud.

Robin lets out a sigh, slumping back in his seat, as Batman shuts the door.

Stopping the robbery takes less effort than expected. Once the lookouts are down and he slips into the bank he finds the robbers all chatting around rather proud of not tripping any of the silent alarms. It’s the reason they took so long. They’re so confident they won’t get caught that they haven’t bothered to rush. They probably would have gotten away with it, if Batman hadn’t seen them as they breaking in.

He returns to the Batmobile and climbs inside the driver’s seat.

“Did you get them?”

“I did.”

“Yay!”

His blood begins to bubble and Batman has to forcefully fight down a smile at Robin’s joy. It’s not easy, especially with Robin gleefully laughing as they streak down the street, but he does manage it.

They’re back on the rooftops—partially because patrolling in the car is inefficient, but mostly because Batman needs to Robin to be exhausted so he’ll fall asleep in the Batmobile and he can start a real patrol—when they hear a scream from an alleyway.

He makes his way over, Robin following him carefully, and one glance into the alleyway tells him everything he needs to know. A prostitute’s client has turned on her. Not exactly an uncommon occurrence in Gotham. The only worrying part of the situation is the gun in the man’s hand.

“Stay here,” he reminds him.

“I know,” Robin sighs.

He throws a batarang—and he still doesn’t understand where Robin got that name from—and waits until the gun is out of his hands before swooping down to deal with him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the woman bolt from the alley.

The charges on the man won’t stick without her testimony, but he’ll spend a night in jail at the very least.

“Well, that was easy.”

He’s halfway finished tying up the thug when he hears the voice. He stays calm and finishes with the guy on the ground because the last thing he needs is to turn his back on someone who would stab it.

When he starts turning to face the man behind him, he’s not surprised to see a gun pointed at him.

“We’ve been pulling this stunt for the past week, waiting for you to show up.”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not with Robin’s fear pressing down on his chest and making it harder to draw a breath. ‘What do I do?’ Robin needs to stay in place and he sends that through the link.

Half turned to face the man, he can’t slip his hidden hand in his utility belt for a weapon; however, he can slip it into the pocket of thug he’s tied up. His fingers close around, what’s probably a phone and that’s good enough that he’s less worried about the threat of a gun levelled at him.

“What nothing to say? And here I thought the almighty Batman would want to know why I was sent to kill him.”

He’s waiting for the right moment to move, this has to end soon, especially with how the man’s words are terrifying Robin. If he moves too early, he loses the chance to end this in one shot; if he moves too late, he ends up risking a bullet to one of his non-Kevlar protected body parts.

It’s a simple matter of timing, of waiting until just before the man’s about to pull the trigger.

He waits a second, and another, and then another, counting his breaths slowly as he waits for the man to prepare to pull the trigger.

“Well, goodbye, Batman.”

It’s sloppy, though. In his efforts to block out Robin’s fear he forgets that Robin can read this situation just, as well, if not better than him.

The man moves to pull the trigger and Batman prepares to dodge out of the way, when Robin slams into him from the side and pushes him out of the way.

His aim is off, the phone smashing into a wall, and he hears the crack of the gunshot.

 “What the fuck?” the man cries.

Both his hands move. A batarang knocks the revolver out his hand. A bola ties the man up before he can run.

He knows before he sees it.

Robin is quiet and if Batman couldn’t feel his pain he’d be more worried about what the silence meant. Still, walking over to his boy to examine the wound is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

Robin’s armour isn’t fully bulletproof, yet. Another reason he was supposed to stay away from guns. He’d been experimenting with different materials such as nanocellulose or graphene because Kevlar was too heavy for Robin to be running around in and slowing him down would only increase his likelihood of being shot.

There’s a lot of blood, but Batman’s concern over the injury isn’t large enough to drown out his nearly all consuming rage at what’s happened. He pushes his boy’s cape aside and his heart skips a beat.

There’s no exit wound.

He wants to kill the man who did this. He shot Robin, Robin who is still just a baby, who shouldn’t be out here in the first place.

Robin who Batman brought out anyways.

It’s his fault. This whole mess is his fault.

And that just makes him angrier. Angry enough that he starts seeing red.

‘It hurts. I’m scared.’

The anger fades away. He doesn’t have time for this. Not for this boiling anger that’s sizzling in his veins. He needs to get Robin back to the cave for medical attention.

He scoops the boy up and types in the commands for the Batmobile to come to their location. Robin is sniffling softly and Batman knows when he speaks to Commissioner Gordon about the location of these two thugs that he sounds distracted.

Later he’ll interrogate this man about what he’s up to and who hired him. If the interrogation is more forceful or aggressive than usual, well, he shot Robin He’ll be lucky if Batman leaves him breathing.

It’s not until their safely in the car that Robin speaks up. “Batman,” he sobs.

“Yes, Robin?”

“It hurts!”

He’s not prepared for Robin to start wailing in agony. He doesn’t know how to deal with Dick’s terror crushing him. And he’s not ready to deal with his cries for his parents.

It’s awful. One of the worse experiences of his life. Dick keeps screaming for his parents and there’s nothing Bruce can do to comfort him. He regrets not giving him something to sleep through the minor surgery, but Dick had been rather insistent that he didn’t want to sleep. Dick’s scared and upset and Bruce can’t do anything but sit there and drown in the knowledge that this is his fault.

When Alfred is finished, Bruce picks Dick up and carries him to bed. He lays him down on the bed and runs his fingers through his hair until he falls asleep.

Dick cannot come out with him. This never should have happened.

Gently, he gets up from the bed. He takes a second to watch Dick. He needs to go now. He needs to go interrogate the man that did this. It won’t solve the problem, but it’ll make him feel better to do something.

He’s walking towards the door when he feels Dick wake up. “Bruce?” he whimpers.

“Go back to sleep, Dick.”

“No, you’re leaving me.”

“Dick,” Bruce sighs, “I’ll be back soon.”

“I wanna come with you,” Dick mumbles, reaching for him.

He moves closer and bends down to hug him, wondering why the conversation they had that forced Batman to take on Robin is the conversation that they’re having now, when they know that Robin is not a feasible idea.

“You can’t come with me. I’m going to talk to the man who hurt you.” Immediately, he feels Dick’s fear spike. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I need to find out why he did it.”

Dick isn’t soothed, instead he struggles to get out of bed and stand on his own. He’s woozy and it’s not a result of blood loss, but the painkillers.

He stumbles over to the window and opens it.

“Dick, what are you doing?”

“I’m going with you.”

“Dick—”

“If you don’t take me, I’ll go by myself.”

They are not doing this again. They can’t do this again. The last time he gave in, Dick was shot. He can’t be serious.

But he is.

Bruce can feel his determination. He’s just so damn stubborn. He’s in no position to do anything. He won’t be able to climb out that window without falling to his death. But, he’ll try to anyways.

It’s in this moment that Bruce accepts it. As he picks Dick up, tucks him into bed, and lies down beside him, he accepts that Dick is serious about Robin. It’s not a passing fad or a phase. Bruce isn’t going to be able to stop him. All he can do is accommodate him, train him, and make sure he stays safe.

There’s really nothing he can do to stop him.

(Dick is scared. He’s scared of getting hurt again. He doesn’t ever want to feel that again. He thinks of that man, that man who wants to kill Bruce and whimpers. Even with his face pressed into Bruce’s neck he still feels afraid. He thinks about what would have happened if he hadn’t been there. Would Bruce have been hurt instead? And that’s an even scarier thought. He would rather feel like this forever and ever than have Bruce feel it even one time. He’s scared and he’s hurt, but he knows that he has to stay with Bruce. He has to protect him. Dick doesn’t know what he’ll do without him. He doesn’t want to find out either. He’d rather be scared and with Bruce than happy and without him. So, he’ll follow Bruce wherever he goes no matter what.)


	3. Shape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, I realized that even though I know exactly where this chapter was supposed to go, the ending I had in mind wouldn't work. In the end, I had to cut part of the chapter down (including Failsafe so that's now in the next chapter) so that the story remained in easily divisible story arcs. The first one is them meeting, the second one is the formation of Robin, and this one being the beginning of The Team and an uncomfortable shift in Bruce and Dick's relationship. And, of course the next one is... well, never mind. No spoilers.

It's been one month since Robin was shot.  

When Bruce enters the game room, he's unsurprised to find Dick curled up on the couch watching cartoons.  

“Come sit with me!” Dick pats the seat beside him bouncing, as he turns around to face him and Bruce wants to smile at how happy Dick is in that moment. There’s a bursting warmth in his chest and a ringing, ‘You're here! You're here! You’re here!’ echoing through him.  

Bruce sits down beside his boy and Dick throws himself into his lap before he manages to finish settling in. “Hugs!” he cries, wrapping his little arms around his neck and squeezing tightly.  

“Dick.” Bruce sighs softly and returns the hug and he would take a second to enjoy the moment, but Dick screams, “Kisses!”  

Bruce would object, but he suddenly has Dick's mouth covering his own and he's pretty sure that trying to speak now would be a terrible idea.  

It's odd how Dick craves physical affection. It’s not something he really understands. Dick's kisses and hugs and caresses all lack a sexual component that Bruce is still trying to comprehend. He had forgotten what this simple affection was like. In moments like this it is easy to remember the warmth of his mother’s hugs or the reassuring weight of his father’s hand on his shoulders. Memories that have faded in the years since they had been murdered are so much easier to recall.

He had forgotten how easy it was to convey emotions through touch. He had forgotten how to enjoy innocent affection. Sex has been a means to an end for him. A way to keep up the persona of Bruce Wayne, airhead and playboy; a way to distract himself from emotions he didn’t understand, relationships he didn’t quite understand. 

This is nice. If he’s honest with himself, he can admit that this is his favourite part of the day: Coming home from a long day of work to sit with Dick who is always so happy to see him.  

Dick starts crooning at him, pressing forward to nuzzle the side of Bruce’s face and neck, his little hands running through Bruce’s hair. Bruce chuckles before he can stop himself, before he even realizes he’s laughing, “I don’t need grooming, Dick.” 

It’s a cute little habit of Dick’s and Bruce knows that it serves two purposes. Dick grooms for the intimacy of the action, but he also grooms because he’s possessive and doesn’t like to share. Bruce can tell with every little nuzzle of Dick’s face against his own that Dick is scent-marking. Or at least trying to. He’s a child now, his scent is easily overpowered by Bruce’s own, and it will remain that way until he reaches his sexual maturity.

Bruce isn’t sure whether or not Dick is consciously trying to stake a claim, but the action amuses him. He’s found Dick rubbing his hands over silk ties and work clothes and anything else that belongs to Bruce in attempts to make them smell like himself. It’s futile, though, Dick’s scent lingers briefly before fading away. Instead, Bruce’s scent will cling to Dick. It’s why he hasn’t made any attempt to stop him. Dick habit ensures that he always smells like Bruce, no matter what, and Bruce isn’t about to put a stop to that.

Dick whines ever so slightly, pulls back enough to pout at him, and Bruce knows his boy is trying to manipulate him, can feel him trying to manipulate him, but he gives in with a small grin. He presses his face against the side of Dick's and runs his fingers through Dick's hair

This is nice perfect. He peppers kisses across Dick’s face and listens to the happy noises that spill from his throat, feels the warmth and love that’s envelops him completely, and watches the bliss on Dick’s little face.

This is perfect and nothing can ruin this moment.

(Dick is happy. So happy. Bruce was stressed earlier and Dick is sure he had a bad day at work. But, he’s okay now because Dick is taking care of him. Kissing and hugging all of the badness of the day away. It’s easy and it’s fun and it’s worth it because Dick is happy when Bruce is happy and he likes making Bruce happy. He doesn’t like when Bruce feels bad and when he grows up and they get married, Dick knows he’ll make sure that Bruce is never sad again. And he knows their babies will help him make Bruce feel better too.)

* * *

It's been seven month since Robin was shot.

The one year anniversary of the Grayson’s death isn’t marked with understanding and cuddles. Instead, when the day rolls by, Dick can only think of it as the day Bruce leaves him.

Batman stands by the computer in the Justice League headquarters, typing in commands and pulling up video footage as he briefs the League on the alien invasion that is currently taking place on Earth.

“We’ll need to split up. Wonder Woman, Flash, Aquaman, Hawkgirl, and Martian Manhunter, you’ll stay here and stop them before they cause any more damage. Superman and Green Lantern, you’re with me. We’ll stop their reinforcements before they arrive. We leave in five minutes.”

Robin stands from his seats and walks over to Batman’s side and tries not to stare at the other Leaguers in awe. He’s never met them before and he never thought his first time meeting them would be like this. Fast paced without an introduction because everyone is more concerned about the alien armada that somehow managed to sneak up on them.

Batman glances down at him and when he smiles up at Batman, he can feel a layer of dread sinking into his skin. “Robin, I need you to head back to the cave.”

Robin feels his smile freezing on his face. He doesn’t understand. Why would he return to the cave when Batman is heading out into space?

‘I’m sorry.’ “You can’t come with me.” Batman’s voice is soft. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

Robin shakes his head. “No. You can’t leave me.”

“Robin—”

“I’m coming too.”

‘It’s too dangerous.’ “You’ll be in the way.”

That hurts. Batman has never said anything like that to him. He doesn’t know why he would say something like that. They’re partners. How can you have a partner who’s in the way?

“I’ll stay on the ship. In the cargo bay.”

‘No!’ “No.” The sharp shot of fear that sizzles down Robin’s spine is at odds with the calm way Batman speaks.

“But—”

‘Go home where it’s safe.’ “I don’t have time for this.” Batman takes a step away from him and Robin grabs his cape before he can get too far.

He doesn’t want Batman to leave him. To go into space. It hurts so much when he leaves. He hasn’t left since the day Dick met him, and Dick doesn’t want that to change. He hates when Batman leaves. It feels like all of his insides are ripped out of him, like his brain is looking for extra limbs he’s forgotten about, like half of his soul is torn out. He doesn’t want to feel like that ever again. 

He doesn’t understand why he has to feel like that again.

Why can’t he come? Why can’t he stay with Batman if he promises to stay out of the way? It wouldn’t be very hard for him to sit around in the cargo bay while the League does what it has to do to stop the aliens. He just doesn’t understand why Batman doesn’t want to be with him.

“Don’t leave me.” He sobs. He doesn’t want to start crying, but he does. He’s scared of feeling that hurt again. He’s scared of feeling that hurt forever. Because what if something happens to Batman while he’s off the planet. What if he dies and leaves Dick just like his parents did. He doesn’t want to be alone again. The two weeks he spent at the Centre were the worst two week of his life and at least then he could still feel Bruce.

‘I’m sorry.’ “I have to go.”

“But it hurts.” He’s crying now, openly crying in front of Bruce and everyone else in the room, and that’s so embarrassing that Dick tries to stop, but he can’t which just makes him cry even harder.

‘I know.’ “Billions of lives are depending on us stopping this invasion. It doesn’t matter if we feel a little bit of pain.”

A little bit of pain? Batman’s cloak slips from his fingers and Dick backs away from him slowly. How could Bruce consider it a little bit of pain? It’s agony. Sheer agony for Dick. Being separated from Bruce hurts him so much that he can barely function.

He can still remember his parent’s fear whenever Bruce left for space. He remembers his mother’s tears and his father’s strained whispers. They’d been so worried about him the three times it had happened. Dick hadn’t been able to eat, he hadn’t been able to think, he’d barely been able to go to the bathroom on his own.

But maybe it was different for Bruce. Maybe the pain wasn’t as bad for him. Maybe he didn’t love Dick enough for the separation to bother him.

Dick turns and flees from the room. ‘I’m sorry. I love you. It’ll be okay.’

He can’t get the zeta tube working, not when his vision is blurry from tears. He’s barely stifling his sobs when a hand turns him around and his lenses are flicked up. A handkerchief is pressed against his eyes and Dick shakily lifts one hand to take it and wipe his eyes properly. After wiping his face and blowing his nose, Dick shyly offers the handkerchief back. “Thank you,” he says, as Martian Manhunter takes the cloth from him.

“You are welcome.” The Martian regards him carefully, folding the cloth back up. “If I may ask, why are you distressed?”

Dick bites his lips, feels everything inside of him swelling up again, and tries to hold it in. But he can’t. A little sob slips out, followed by another and another and another and another. He’s crying again before he can even realize what’s happening.

“Bruce doesn’t love me.” He manages to get out. The knowledge hurts, sizzles inside of him, and he feels lonely. He wants his parents. He wants to talk to his mom about how he feels. How Bruce hurt him and he doesn’t know what to do. He wants his dad to pick him up. To hold him close and keep all the bad feelings away. But they can’t. 

They’re gone and Dick can’t ever have their comfort again.

Martian Manhunter is calm. He picks up Dick and pulls him into a tight hug and waits a few moments for Dick’s sobs to subside.

“And what makes you say that?”

“He doesn’t want me with him.”

“Did he say that?”

“He said I would be in his way,” he sobs, “even when I said I’d stay in the cargo bay.”

“Ah.” Martian Manhunter begins to rock him gently, and Dick tucks his head into the crook of the alien’s neck, as the motion soothes him. “Batman may take a larger ship to ensure he arrives with Green Lantern and Superman, but he will switch to a smaller spaceship when they get there. You would be alone on the ship while they were stopping our foe.”

“So?”

One of Martian Manhunter’s hands comes up to stroke Dick’s hair and Dick lets out a soft sigh. “We have had several of our larger ships destroyed in situations like this. If you were on the ship while it was otherwise unoccupied, there is a very high chance you would die.”

Dick gasps, eyes widening as he looks up at the Martian, “I would die.”

“Most likely.”

Dick flinches at the thought. Of the thought of dying and leaving Bruce alone. Of making him hurt forever. But, then again, Bruce said it only hurt a little. So, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him. Because he doesn’t love Dick as much as he loves Bruce.

Dick sobs and buries his face back into the crook of the Martian’s neck. He thought Bruce loved him as much as Dick loved him, but he was wrong. Bruce isn’t afraid of being separated because it doesn’t hurt him as much, because he doesn’t love Dick as much.

“Is there something else on your mind, Robin?”

Dick tries to take a breath, but his nose is all stuffy and he can’t get any air, so he’s forced to suck in a big breath through his mouth before he can speak. “Bruce said he only hurts a little when he’s gone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, but if it only hurts him a little and me a lot, doesn’t that mean he only loves me a little?”

Martian Manhunter makes a soft humming noise. “It does not.”

Robin turns his head enough to peek up at the alien.

“I imagine Batman was not truthful about the amount of pain he experiences. After all, the first time we ever went into space, Batman was instantly incapacitated.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he could not do anything. It was not until the Earth was moments away from being destroyed that he managed to pull himself together enough to function. I imagine, it was only the knowledge of the consequences for his inaction, as in the destruction of the Earth—the destruction of you—that forced him to collect himself and work through his pain.”

Dick tries to understand that. To make it all make sense in his head. 

Bruce was like Dick when he went into space. He hurt and he couldn’t do anything, but then he realized if he didn’t do something, Dick would die. There’s so much pain, though. He doesn’t understand how Bruce could ever muster up the willpower to fight through it. If Dick was in that situation—if he was in that situation, Dick knows he would do anything to save Bruce.

It wouldn’t matter how much he hurt, it wouldn’t matter how much he wanted to find some way to get back to Bruce and make the hurting stop, Dick knows that he would fight until Bruce was safe.

And that’s why Bruce is leaving. He’s leaving so he can keep Dick safe. Even though it’ll hurt him, hurt both of them, Bruce is going to go so he can protect him.

He’s been selfish.

Bruce is going to leave to keep him safe and Dick is accusing him of not loving him enough. Bruce is leaving and instead of saying goodbye, Dick ran away. Anything could happen to him. Bruce could die in space and Dick won’t have said anything to him before he left.

Tears fill his eyes and he squirms out of Martian Manhunter’s arms. He takes off into a sprint. He has to get to Bruce. He has to get to him and say goodbye before he leaves. Bruce can’t leave thinking Dick is mad at him.

Dick reaches for him. Reaches for him and begs him to wait, to not leave him. ‘I have to go.’

Dick pushes himself to run faster. He can’t leave. He can’t leave. Bruce can’t leave while things are still like this. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dick follows the connection back to Bruce, but it’s hard. Bruce isn’t where he left him and Dick can’t exactly travel through walls, which means he can’t go in a straight line. He hits another intersection and turns left without a second thought. There’s a pair of automatic doors in front of him that slide open the second he gets close enough.

He’s here. Bruce is standing in front of a giant spaceship speaking to Superman. He has no idea how he managed to find this place without making a single wrong turn, but he is so thankful that he did. He rushes to Bruce, jumps up into his arms, and clings to his man as tight as he can.

Bruce pulls him close and Dick can feel his love pouring into him, it feels like taking a bath and having the warm water, steam, and bubbles surrounding every inch of you. It soothes the guilt that gnaws at the corner of Dick’s mind.

How could he have doubted Bruce? How could he have ever thought that Bruce didn’t love him?

“I’m sorry,” he sobs between frantic kisses to the exposed part of Bruce’s face.

‘I don’t want to go,’ “Robin,” he says, pressing a kiss to his forehead, ‘but I have to.’ “it’s okay. I’ll see you when I get back.” 

He flinches at the reminder. The reminder that Bruce is leaving and he just might die. Anything could happen to him and Dick wouldn’t know. He’d be left feeling torn and empty and awful forever.

“Promise.” It’s not a question, it’s an order. Bruce has to come back. He has to come back and be with him and spend time with him. He has to come back so that when Dick grows up they can get married and have babies together. He has to come back so they can have a family.

‘I don’t want to lie to you.’ “Robin?”

“Promise you’ll come back to me.”

‘I won’t lie to you.’ “I promise to do everything within my power to try to come back to you.”

It’s not the same. Promising to do something is not the same as promising to try to do something. Dick’s right pinky starts to throb and he understands. This is the best answer he’ll get from Bruce. The best answer he’ll ever get from him.

Dick nods his head and tries to hug Bruce tighter. He has to let go. He has to send Bruce off into space where Dick can’t feel him or help him or reach him or...

He sobs. Even though he knows he has to let Bruce go, he can’t because the thought scares him and he’s already hurting even though Bruce is in his arms.

He needs to send Bruce off. Dick reaches for the cowl to push it off because he has to groom Bruce before he leaves. Everyone has to know that he belongs to Dick, that Dick is protecting him, and if they try to hurt him, Dick will punish them.

Bruce intercepts his hands, holding them gently in one hand. He shakes his head and wails. Bruce holds out for a couple of seconds before he releases Dick’s hands and lets him do as he wants. Dick shoves the cowl down and some part of him hears Superman’s choked breathe and startled “Bruce Wayne!” but he’s too focused on running his fingers through Bruce’s hair to pay it any attention.

He can only drag grooming out for so long. After a few minutes, Bruce places Dick on the ground. Dick whimpers, can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist and clinging to him. “Robin,” he hears Bruce say.

“I love you,” he says and forces himself to let go Bruce. Bruce doesn’t say anything, he just cups Dick’s face for a moment before stepping back. Dick tries to be brave and strong, but he can’t. 

Dick cries all the way home, focusing on the steady thrum of ‘I love you I love you I love you’ that courses through him.

And then it stops.

(Batman slips his cowl back over his head and tries not to focus on what Robin’s feeling. He understands what his boy is feeling, he feels it himself. The dread and the anxiousness of their upcoming separation are just as bad as the actual act will be. He’s proud in a way. Proud at the way Robin managed to let go, how he was able to push past his own fear and focus on the bigger picture. The pride overshadows his annoyance at how all the effort he had put into convincing Superman he was not Bruce Wayne has gone to waste. Contrary to what Batman tells everyone, Superman isn’t actually stupid and was incredibly suspicious when he was asked to dress up as Batman to corroborate something Bruce Wayne had to say.)

* * *

It’s been a year and a half since Robin was shot for the first time. He has twenty-one months of training under his belt now.

He’s smart and calm. Resourceful, cunning, cautious.

Bruce runs through numbers and lists Robin’s attributes and skill set in his head over and over again. Organizing the list through relevance, and then redoing it alphabetically, before rearranging it based on Robin’s mastery.

In the end his list does nothing to calm him down and reassure him of Robin’s capabilities. Because it isn’t Robin who is in danger.

It is Dick Grayson.

It’s Dick who was kidnapped from school and is being held hostage for a sum of money that Bruce would gladly hand over if he could gather it all in the unreasonable deadline he’s been given. 

He can’t solve this case as Batman. Bruce Wayne needs to have high visibility, so even though he can feel exactly where Dick is, he can’t just retrieve him on his own; instead, he’s forced to lead Commissioner Gordon and the police squad to the abandon warehouse the kidnappers are keeping Dick and sit in a police cruiser and wait for the cops to retrieve him. 

The waiting is the worst part. He hates being so close to Dick, but unable to help him. ‘I’m okay.’ He feels Dick’s soft reassurance through their bond, but it’s not enough to override the prickling sensation behind his eyes or the icy grip on his heart that depict his boy’s fear. Because Dick is scared and alone and no matter how well Dick can hide his emotions from others under thick veneer of calm, Bruce can feel his every emotion.

Just like Dick can feel every one of his.

There’s nothing he can do but sit in this car and wait. Bruce feels his fingers clench into fists and there’s an itch in his knuckles that can only be soothed by one thing.

Bruce reaches for Dick, tries to comfort him with the knowledge that he’s just outside and the police are on their way to save him. He’s not sure how successful he is, but he can feel Dick reaching back for him. He tries to reassure himself that this is enough, that this is all he needs to stay still and “out of the way”.

There’s a brief moment when Dick is relieved, when a weight is lifted from Bruce’s shoulder, and he knows the cops must have finally finished their negotiations with the kidnappers. The sudden sharp sizzling of fear in his gut forces him to sit up straighter, one hand reaching to open the car door before he forces himself to stop.

He hears gunshots.

And there isn’t a force on the planet that can stop Bruce Wayne from bursting out of the car and onto the scene.

(Dick tries to be brave. He tries to be calm and patient and resourceful and all the other things Bruce has taught him in his Robin training. But, it’s hard. It’s hard to be Robin when he’s not wearing the mask. He’s never thought he would have to deal with being a hostage as Dick Grayson and it doesn’t matter how many times this has happened, being kidnapped never gets any easier or less scary. He tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that Bruce is nearby. That he’ll come for Dick like he always does. He can feel the ball of stress resting in his stomach and reaches for Bruce in an attempt to comfort him. Because he is okay. No one is leering at him or trying to grab at him. The one alpha who had stood too close to him and gently stroked his shoulders had been sent out to stand guard and Dick hasn’t seen him since. He’s okay, he really is. And he just has to make sure Bruce understands that.)

* * *

It’s been a little more than four and a half years since Bruce accepted Dick as Robin. Sometimes Dick can barely believe it’s been so long since he’s started living with Bruce. Since his parents had been murdered.

He’s twelve now, another thing he’s not exactly used to. His birthday had been last month and Dick had taken his first steps into puberty that morning when he awoke to find he’d bled all over Bruce during the night. It wasn’t as if it had been an obscene amount blood, but it was more than Dick would have ever wanted to see coating Bruce’s right leg where Dick had been sprawled over as he slept.

Bruce had been pretty calm and clinical as he stripped out of his pyjamas and explained to Dick that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but that had done nothing to cool his heated cheeks or diminish his burning need to hide himself away until the entire incident was forgotten. 

He certainly hadn’t felt any better when Bruce had shown him an entire pantry of different menstrual products he could use and lectured him on a list of pros and cons for each one.

Dick can feel his cheeks blushing at just the thought of the memory. He presses his face deeper into the pillow he’s clutching to his chest. It’s Bruce’s pillow. Because Bruce isn’t here and Dick has to settle for things that hold his scent instead of his alpha.

There was a charity gala and while Dick hadn’t been forced to go, Bruce did attend, taking a night off patrol. Apparently, Robin isn’t allowed to patrol by himself. Even though, at this point, he has more experience than Batman first did when he started out and all of the major criminals are locked up in Arkham and aren’t likely to get out anytime soon.

Dick huffs to himself and rolls onto his side, unable to stop his pout from forming on his lips. He isn’t exactly pleased to be stuck here while Bruce is off with some floozy. Bruce and his dates is another weird subject. Because it’s not like he doesn’t know that Bruce dates other people, usually omegas, though there have been a couple of female betas. He gets it. Bruce has a reputation to keep. Being a playboy has been an integral part of keeping his identity secret. Whenever Bruce Wayne disappears for awhile, the general consensus is that the man is off helping some poor omega through their heat.

And more than that, Bruce has needs. Needs that Dick certainly isn’t helping him out with. Needs Dick doesn’t want to help him out with. The thought of doing _that_ with Bruce makes him uncomfortable and not in a good way. Honestly, the thought of French kissing Bruce, of having Bruce’s tongue in his mouth, freaks him out. It just seems gross and strange and he has a hard time imagining ever wanting that.

In some ways he’s aware that he will want that one day. That he can’t have a family with Bruce unless he gets pregnant and there is only one way for that to happen. But, that day is far off in the future and Dick knows that Bruce won’t do anything until he’s ready.

He lets out another sigh, rolling onto his back. He’s waiting for Bruce to start having sex. It’s such a weird thought. When he was younger, the sensation used to lull him to sleep. It was soft and muted and indescribable and Dick used to just drop off into sleep once it started up. Back then, he hadn’t known exactly what Bruce was doing to provide the feelings and Bruce hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming with the details, but now that he’s older, Dick gets it.

He closes his eyes, takes another deep inhale, and reaches for Bruce. He feels Bruce reach back for him, ‘Are you alright?’ He’s fine, just a little lonely, but he doesn’t want Bruce to know that even though it’s impossible to hide it from him. Being here in their bed, surrounded by Bruce’s scent, is not the same as being here in their bed, surrounded by Bruce.

‘I’ll be home soon.’ And Dick knows that, but knowing doesn’t ease his loneliness. Dick forces himself to relax and focus on something else, waiting for the moment that Bruce’s activities finally lull him to sleep. He feels the shift in Bruce’s emotions, how they become more predatory and focused than they were moments ago.

There’s an almost nervous tension running through him, as he waits for the gentle sensation to embrace him and allow him to sleep.

He doesn’t get it.

Instead, Dick feels a sharp gut wrenching pleasure sweep through him. He gasps, sits up, and tries to collect himself. He feels unsettled and uncomfortable and a little afraid because he’s never felt anything like this before. He feels Bruce’s panic mirroring his own and tries to reassure his man that he’s fine.

Dick bites his lip, lies down on his stomach, and tries to ride the sensation out.

If this is going to happen whenever Bruce has sex, they’re going to have a major problem.

(Bruce hopes his phone rings with an emergency. Any emergency. He can feel Dick’s anxiety and panic, but he has no idea what’s wrong and he’s pretty sure his boy will be more annoyed if he rushed home now for no other reason than to check on him. There’s a sharp pleasure resting in his gut, a sort of heady arousal that Bruce knows can’t possibly belong to him. Which means it must belong to Dick. Bruce doesn’t even want to think about what Dick’s doing now that’s led to him feeling like this. To his horror he feels their pleasure feeding off each other and he’s forced into one of the strongest orgasms of his life. As he rolls off Cindy and onto his back, Bruce realizes that if this was caused by what he thinks caused it, they are going to have a major problem.)

* * *

It’s been almost six years since Batman accepted Robin. Roughly three years since Batman last questioned Robin’s sense of responsibility and his capabilities. Less than two years since he began to trust Robin to make his own calls and plans in times of crisis. It’s been a very long time since the last time Batman was forced to wonder if Robin had any sense in his head. 

Which is why he’s having such a hard time comprehending the sheer stupidity that overtook him and caused him to attempt to tackle a case that’s prep work hasn’t even been finished. 

He hadn’t been aware of what Robin had been up to while he worked to stop an attempt to blot out the sun. The idea to micromanage and stalk Robin through their bond hasn’t run through his head in a while. 

He’s trusted Robin for so long to be safe and reasonable that this act of recklessness can’t feel like anything but a betrayal. 

Cadmus is destroyed, nothing but rubble beneath his feet. Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and the clone stand there, unrepentant, and Batman, as the most level-headed, has been elected to deal with them. 

“It’s simple: Get on board or get out of the way,” the clone says.

And he can feel the way those words resonate with Robin. How they fill him with equal parts of determination and guilt. Because Robin is no longer a helpless child. He doesn’t need to be protected like he did even a year ago. 

He wants more responsibilities, more challenges, more independence.

The thought bothers him more than it should.

He doesn’t want Robin to be independent, he like having Robin dependent on him because it means Robin will be around. It means Robin is still a child and not on his way to growing up and falling in love and moving out of the manor with his mate.

He doesn’t want to think of his boy growing up and leaving him. But he will, it’s to be expected, and any attempt to stop him from doing so would be despicable.

And even if it wasn't despicable, it would still guarantee that Robin would be unhappy and the last thing Batman wants is for his soulmate to be unhappy.

Soulmate. It's such an ambiguous term. Most people seem to think that finding your soulmate means finding the person you're meant to be with. And that's not completely accurate. There are three types of soulmate bonds: Parental, Platonic, and Romantic.

Parental bonds are the most common. They are found between parents that would do anything for their child and between children who adore their parent. They are often found in abusive households, and the bond helps a parent and child duo to survive in their own home.

Platonic bonds are the next common. It's the sort of connection that happens between best friends, between people who just understand each other. During the World Wars these temporarily became the most common soul bond, binding people together through their shared experiences and traumas.

The least common bond is the romantic one. And yet, the romantic soulmate is the most talked about. It's been turned into this perfect ideal that very few people will ever reach.

When the bond between them first formed, he'd been convinced that the bond they had was a romantic one. But, then he'd met Robin, saw the age difference between them, and watched as Robin's parents died. Back then, he'd thought he'd understood. He'd been so sure that they were supposed to have a parental bond, and while he'd been disappointed, he'd accepted it and been so glad that they at least had each other.

But, now? Now, he isn't so sure. He hasn’t been sure in awhile. He's never been able to consider Robin as his son. His boy has always meant something different to him. He had managed to convince himself for a time that they were platonic soulmates. That Robin was his best friend and that had made so much sense to him. It still makes sense to him.

But not completely.

Ever since that night with Cindy, he hasn’t been able to make any sense of their connection.

It’s awkward and unsettling, but he has no idea what it’s supposed to mean nor what he’s supposed to do. There’s something very disturbing about knowing Robin is masturbating. Something deeply wrong about being able to feel his pleasure. And the more uncomfortable the sensation and knowledge makes him, the harder it is for him to convince Robin that there’s nothing wrong with what he’s doing. That masturbation is a perfectly healthy and normal part of life.

The feeling of eyes on him draws him back into the moment. Everyone is staring at him, waiting for him to respond to the clone, and Batman bites back several gut instincts to reprimand the boy for attempting to give him an ultimatum.

In the end, he turns on his heel and leaves, Robin falling into step behind him.

Dick is completely silent until they’re climbing into bed. He doesn’t immediately curl up in Bruce’s arms, instead he sits, leaning against the headboard, and watches Bruce.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” he whispers.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately to his words. He can’t, not with the words ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ rushing through his veins.

“I’m not a kid anymore. How am I supposed to prove myself to you if I’m always glued to your side?”

“And what do you have to prove?”

“That I can handle this. That I can fight by your side and I won’t slow you down.”

“I don’t think you’ll—”

“I won’t die either.”

It’s an instinctive reaction, the way those words cause his heart to skip a beat and a cold sweat to break out on his back. “You don’t know that.” He can’t know that. It’s impossible to be able to predict that.

It's arrogance that causes Dick to say that. The same sort of youthful arrogance that's convinced him that Dick isn't ready to work on his own.

But, in the end, it doesn't matter how that arrogance makes him feel because Dick is stubborn and determined. Just like all those years ago, he's left with two options: Either facilitate and guide Dick into the next phase of his life or attempt to contain him, always on the lookout for when Dick rebels at his confinement.

And just like when he was staring Dick down while his boy half dangled out the window, Bruce understands that it's not much of a choice. He has to set this up for him. He has to find a way to give Dick a safe place to explore and grow as an individual and as a hero.

"Bruce," Dick whines. It's a soft sound, steeped in a needy sort of grief that causes Bruce to open his arms wide enough for Dick to crawl between them.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," he whispers. Tomorrow when there's a little distance between the event, when Bruce can distance himself from his emotions and his burning need to hide Dick away from the rest of the world.

Tomorrow Bruce will be able to listen to Dick's debrief of today's event and be objective about it.

Dick sighs, a long slow breath that Bruce against dusting across his mating gland. Bruce tightens his grip on Dick, shifts ever so slightly, so he can press a kiss to the top of his boy's head. Dick tilts his head up and pecks Bruce on the lips, the gesture soft and familiar. "I love you," he murmurs.

And Bruce knows, can feel it in the way his blood sings and small smile forces its way onto his lips. Dick kisses him again and Bruce chuckles softly, he thinks nothing of it, until Dick kisses him a third time and a soft jolt rips through him.

"Oh," Dick breathes, fingers reaching up to touch his own lips. He blushes slightly, before moving to kiss him again. And again and again and again. Each kiss becomes more insistent and it takes a couple of minutes for the situation to sink in. Dick moves, squirming out of Bruce's arms and repositioning himself so he's straddling his chest, leaning over Bruce and kissing him with a foreign sort of intensity that Bruce has never experienced through him.

Arousal.

He identifies the emotion Dick's feeling and his heart almost stops. He pushes Dick away slightly and Dick let's out a sad confused whimper. "Bruce?"

He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what to do. Part of him is confused, he has no idea what triggered this, what made Dick think for even a second that this would be okay; another part of him can't help but feel violated because his relationship with Dick is not like that and Dick's attempt to make it like that bothers him; but also, there's a small tiny insignificant part of him that wants this to keep going, that enjoys this more than it should and Bruce suppresses that part of himself, burying as deep down as he possibly can.

"Bruce?" Dick repeats, trying to press closer to him, trying to resume what Bruce just put a stop to.

"Dick," the rest of his words are on the tip of his tongue. He wants to inform Dick how they can't do that, how it's inappropriate, how that's not what their relationship is about. But, Dick doesn't understand. He's confused and hurt by Bruce's actions and his feelings flood Bruce with guilt even though he knows he was doing the right thing. In the end, the words die before they leave his lips, and Bruce pulls Dick into his arms. "It's late," he says, pressing a kiss to Dick's forehead, "we have a long day ahead of us."

(Dick is not looking forward to tomorrow. He's going to have to justify his actions, he's going to have to convince Bruce to take off the kid's gloves, and he's going to have to find out why Bruce doesn't want to make out with him. He's never been rejected like that before. Bruce has always given Dick physical affection whenever he wanted it. And to have Bruce push him away like that, right when Dick was finally starting to understand why adults like kissing so much, hurts. It hurts because Dick knows Bruce kisses other people like that. He kisses them and then he has sex with them, and while Dick doesn't want to have sex with Bruce he does want to kiss him. Because that was nice and comfortable and Dick had really been enjoying it. And it's hard to understand why Bruce would like kissing other people, but not Dick. Tomorrow. Everything will be sorted out tomorrow. Until then, Dick will stay buried safely between Bruce's arms, with his nose pressed against his man's mating gland.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this super late chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is, but I wrote it, and it is now a thing.


End file.
